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THE 



PHILOSOPHY OF PEIMAEY BELIEFS. 



AN 



INTRODUCTION 



PHILOSOPHY 



PRIMARY BELIEFS. 



RICHARD LOWNDES 




WILLIAMS AND M)EGATE, 
14, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON 

AND 

20, SOUTH FREDERICK STREET, EDINBURGH. 
1 8 6 5. 






THE LIBRARY 
OF C ONGR ESS 

WASHINGTON 



1 



BEETFOED: 

PKIMTED 10 bii i ill n ai ii •■ 



17 ^ 



PREFACE 



Some years ago it occurred to me that a plain, popular 
epitome of Sir W. Hamilton's metaphysical theories might 
be found somewhat useful ; the researches of this learned 
.and vigorous thinker being confessedly of considerable 
value, and yet being extremely inaccessible, owing princi- 
pally to his having scattered his best thoughts over stray 
foot-notes and fragmentary dissertations, instead of work- 
ing them into a system. 

In the course of drawing up such an epitome, that 
happened to me which no doubt frequently befals the 
students of metaphysical books ; I presently began to 
suspect I did not entirely agree on all points with my 
author. Mr. Mansel's application of Hamilton to theology 
made matters considerably worse. So that my epitome 
took by degrees a somewhat aggressive form, and has 
at last been developed into a sort of system of its own, 
which, such as it is, I venture to lay before the public. 

Before doing so, it seems only fitting that I should 
briefly state what pretensions it has to present itself as 
something new. This may be most readily done, by 
explaining how far it follows, and at what point it begins 
to branch off from, Sir "W. Hamilton's theory. 

b 



VI PREFACE. 



Although the term "primary belief'/' which figures 
somewhat too often in the following pages, is scarcely- 
referred to, and is nowhere adopted as his own, in any 
of Hamilton's writings, yet the fundamental notion ex- 
pressed by it enters very deeply into his system. In fact, 
if I may venture to say so, the great merit of this philoso- 
pher consists in his having steadily based his doctrine 
upon it. 

When we have grown tired of questioning and doubt- 
ing, and wish for something positive ; when the destruc- 
tiveness of our youthful intellect has worn itself out ; 
everybody more or less strongly feels the necessitj^ of 
some secure basis, some standing ground, upon which 
he may build his opinions, so that they may be steady, 
and consequently permanent. Such a standing ground 
was long ago discovered, and pointed out for metaphy- 
sicians, by a very original thinker, who was unfortunately 
a very verbose and wearisome writer, Dr. Thomas Eeid. 
He gave it, however, an unfortunate name, in calling it 
Common Sense. He was still more unfortunate in making 
some very serious mistakes in the application of his own 
theory, by which it was discredited in the eyes of the 
philosophical public. For this and other reasons the 
philosophy of common sense fell into neglect. It was 
perhaps overshadowed by the, I will not say lustre, but 
fascinating obscurity, of the German metaphysicians. 

Sir W. Hamilton found out this lost jewel, polished and 
reset if, and restored to ii ifs reputation. He gave it a 
new name ; and after him metaphysicians may learn to 
place the foundation of human knowledge upon the pri- 



PREFACE. YH 

mary instincts, beliefs, or groundwork of belief, emplanted 
in the nature of man. 

What is done in the earlier part of the present volume 
is little more than to arrange, systematize, and express in 
somewhat less technical language, Sir W. Hamilton's doc- 
trine of Primary Beliefs. 

The point of divergence comes later. Sir W. Hamil- 
ton's antipathy to the more recent growths of Grerman 
philosophy seems to have led him into a course of specu- 
lation which, however original in outward appearance, 
was in truth, if I do not greatly err, nothing better 
than a partial relapse into the old sensationalism of the 
earlier followers of Locke. I refer to his " Philosophy of 
the Unconditioned," first made public in a contribution to 
the Edinburgh Revieiv, and, unfortunately, the best known 
and most popular portion of his teaching. According to 
this theory, the mind of man is incapable of rising to any 
conception of the infinite, and so is to a great extent un- 
fitted for any satisfactory study of Natural Theology. This 
result has been eagerly laid hold of by some theological 
writers, as appearing to enhance the importance of a reve- 
lation. I do not know that their eagerness was altogether 
judicious ; as it is certainly possible that a .religion, 
which satisfies the deepest requirements of human nature, 
may lose rather than gain from a demonstration that we 
can attach no weight to that internal evidence which is 
derivable from adaptation to those requirements. How- 
ever, we are not at present dealing with theology ; the 
question is only whether Hamilton's position is tenable. 

Upon a careful examination of the reasoning by which 



Vlll PEEFACE. 

this position is supported, it will be found that the ques- 
tion turns on this — is there, or is there not, in the mind of 
man, a power to think that which it cannot imagine ? The 
power to imagine is demonstrably limited to such objects 
as are concrete and finite. Is there, or is there not, a 
faculty of Pure Eeason which transcends these limits ? 

It appears to me, for the reasons set forth in this 
volume, that there is such a faculty ; and that, in the 
course of demonstrating its existence, and marking out the 
boundaries of its legitimate sphere of operation, w T e come 
upon arguments which serve to overthrow Hamilton's 
" Theory of the Unconditioned," and with it all the purely 
negative portions of the reasoning in Mr. Mansel's Bamp- 
ton Lectures. 

Accordingly, the later and principal portions of this 
volume are occupied with the task here designated ; 
namely, the exhibiting of this faculty of pure reason 
which in various ways transcends or eludes the imagina- 
tion. The first thing to be done is to establish its exist- 
ence ; the second, to mark out its bounds ; and the third, 
to confront it with Hamilton and Mansel, and by this 
means to break loose, if we can, from that uncomfortable 
(and, I think, dangerous) philosophy, which undertakes to 
make us Christians by first making us thorough-going 
sceptics. 

It is not for me to estimate the originality or import- 
ance of the theory thus founded on the distinction between 
Imagining or picturing and pure thinking. It is very 
likely that the Germans, who are so far in advance of us as 
metaphysicians, have already anticipated much of what is 



PREFACE. IX 

here written. If they have, it is none the less necessary 
that the theory should be worked out in an English 
fashion, and so as to be intelligible for English students. 
That the distinction is new to English metaphysics, may 
at any rate be gathered from the fact that it has been 
ignored, or nearly so, by Sir W. Hamilton, and totally 
unnoticed by Mr. Mansel. It is, however, a question of 
much less importance whether it is new, than whether 
it is sound. 

In the Conclusion to this volume, I have ventured upon 
some observations as to the application of the Philosophy 
of Primary Beliefs to certain rudimentary questions in 
theology. This course has been resolved on, partly to 
remove objections which might lurk in the mind of a 
reader, but principally because I think it can be shown, 
and is important to show, that the reception of this phi- 
losophy not only is not incompatible with, but leads 
naturally to, the reception of the Christian religion. 



Wallasey, near Liverpool, 
December, 1864. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION— PRIMARY BELIEFS IN" GENERAL. 
§ I.— DO PEIMAEY BELIEFS EXIST ? 

PASS 

Eeasoning back from the less known to the better known brings us at last 

to things believed, we cannot tell why 1 

Are such beliefs innate ? 2 

That the sensationalist argument against this is a reasoning in a vicious 

circle 4 

Instances of the mutilations of beliefs required by the sensationalist 

hypothesis 6 

The true starting-point : that the existence of such Primary Beliefs be 

accepted as a fact, without theorizing as to their origin 8 

§ II. -ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY ? 

A sceptical argument has to be considered : since primary beliefs are 

un verifiable ab extra, may not the thing believed be false ? 10 

This doubt applies to each and every primary belief, if it applies to any... 11 

This doubt must lead us to deny the evidence of our senses 12 

And to question the existence of our own selves , 14 

And to plunge into absolute nihilism 16 

Mr. Ferrier's demonstration of this 1G 

Hamilton's mode of getting rid of this doubt 18 

Criticism of Hamilton's argument ly 

Conclusion : at least it may be accepted as a postulate, that the thing 

primarily believed is true 23 

On the self-consistency of the body of primary beliefs 24 



Xll TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



§ III.— THE TESTS OF A PRIMARY BELIEF. 

l : AGEE 

General truths which cannot be traced back to individual facts cannot 

have come to our knowledge through experience 26 

Necessary truths cannot have so come 27 

Beliefs which do not admit of degrees of assurance cannot have so come... 2S- 

Primary Beliefs must be simple and incomprehensible 20 

They must be universal : this however does not exclude a gradual and 

partial development 29 

Of derivative beliefs purely a priori 29> 



PAET I. 

ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 

CHAPTER L-OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN GENERAL 

"We cannot set out by assuming the reality of tliuigs 32 

Nor with assuming the real existence of the mind, thinking subject, or 

self 33 

The true starting point is, the reality of our impressions, recollections, 

and thoughts,— i.e. the data of a man's own consciousness 34 

The existence of these data, considered simply as data, is above the reach 

of doubt 25 

What is meant by the term consciousness 35 

Consciousness is not a special faculty, but a name given to an aggregate 

of phenomena 36 

Rcid's account of consciousness 37 

Hamilton's criticism of Reid 38 

CHAPTER II. -OF AX ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 
Things which arc certain when mixed op confusedly are nol the less 

certain for being arranged 40 

Of the subdivision into cognitions and non-cognitions 41 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. Xlll 

PAGE 

Non-cognitions subdivided into feelings and volitions 42 

The divisions of cognitions — i. Percepts 43 

ii. Internal presentations 43 

iii. Remembrances 44 

iv. Imaginations 44 

v. Thoughts or Notions 45 

"Whether there is any loss of certainty in the act of analysis 46 

This depends solely on whether the memory is a reliable faculty 40 

The veraciousness of memory is assumed in the " universal postulate " 

with which we set out 50 



CHAPTER III.— PRESENTATIONS (EXTERNAL). 

A percept is the single datum of a single sense 51 

That which we learn by inference is no part of the percept 53 

That which is only learnt by comparison of two percepts is not a percept. 53 
If we know that to be one, which is given to us in two percepts, such 

knowledge is not a percept 53 

Nor yet, if we know that to be one which we now perceive and remember 

to have perceived formerly 54 

That which can only be known by subdivision of a percept, is not itself a 

percept 54 

CHAPTER IV.— PRESENTATIONS (INTERNAL). 

Self-knowledge, like knowledge of the external world, is given to us 

through a medium 55 

Every datum of consciousness carries with it some mixture or aspect of 

internal presentation 59 

By what criterion is this portion to be detected? 60 

Is it, by direct consciousness of mental activity? 61 

Is it, by the presence of pleasure or pain ? 61 

Definition of an internal presentation 62 

There are limits to " internal presentations" analogous to those assigned 

in the preceding chapter to percepts 62 

That which brings two internal presentations into one act of thought is 

not itself an internal presentation 63 



XIV TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER V.— REPRESENTATIONS. 

„ PAGE 

Definition of 64 

Remembrances of visual percepts 64 

Of the power to recognize objects seen before 65 

Difference between patent and latent representations 66 

Remembrances of percepts other than visual 67 

Reproduction of internal presentations 67 

The power to recognize, or identify, an object exhibits the quasi-sensuous 

character of representation 71 

Complete representations are remembrances 73 

Nothing is imagined but what may have been remembered 75 

Representation can give nothing but that which has before been presented : 
hence, all those limits to presentation, above determined, apply equally 

to representations 77 

CHAPTER VI.— NOTIONS. 

All that is in consciousness has to be accounted for ; if intuitions are not 

1 1 enough for this, there must be something besides intuition 79 

That which brings two intuitions into one, must be something other than 

an intuition 81 

Examples . — Substance 81 

Comparison 82 

Other unpicturable notions :— Negatives 84 

Space and time 85 

General notions (classes) 86 

Individual actions 86 

Individual objects 87 

The theory of Nominalism docs not affect the argument 89 

Conclusion 96 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. XT 

PAET II. 

THE PEIMAEY BELIEFS IN CONSCIOUSNESS. 
CHAPTER I— DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 

PAGE 

Recapitulation of the course of the argument 97 

Of the method to he pursued throughout the Second Part 98 

Further criticism of the criterion of Universality 99 

„ ,, „ Necessity 100 

Sketch of the course of argument to be pursued in the Second Part 101 

CHAPTER II.— OF BELIEF— WHAT IT IS. 

Doubting, believing, or knowing, are each the bringing into one of two 
distinct objects of thought , 104 

Belief and doubt are simple feelings, or internal presentations 105 

"We cannot believe that which we cannot apprehend or grasp as an object 
of thought 105 

Belief and doubt are not merely a greater or less closeness of correspond- 
ency between the two objects of thought 106 

The contrary (psychologically) to belief is not disbelief, but doubt 108 

Knowing is not a different feeling from, but a particular kind or mode of, 
believing 108 

The distinction, that we faioiv necessary truths but believe contingent 
truths, is untenable 109 

Knowledge is the permanent belief of man as man 112 

CHAPTER III.— THE DOCTRINE OF NATURAL REALISM. 

The question, whether mind can come into direct contact with matter ... 115 

Arguments of those who hold that it cannot 115 

The three stages of idealism 116 

How the idealists are to be answered 118 

How to answer the argument derived from the popular errors touching 

perception 121 

Further investigation of the question, What is a percept 123 

The primary qualities of matter are not apprehended by mere perception 124 

Is the apprehension of difference a percept ? 125 



XVI TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER IV.— SUBSTANCE. 

PAGE 

Qualities alone are directly given to us in consciousness 126 

Of the sensationalist theory, that there are no substances 127 

Denying substance, the distinction between perceptions and feelings 

becomes unintelligible 132 

The existence of substances is matter of universal belief 134 

This belief is twofold : objective and subjective 136 

These two substances are equidistant from the data presented in con- 
sciousness 136 

Substance is a thing in itself 137 

Men's belief in substance is not founded in " association of ideas" 137 

This belief, as primary, must be taken as valid 140 

Of the sceptical doctrine of Ferrier 140 

Mansel's doctrine of a direct consciousness of self 142 

CHAPTER V.— SPACE AND TIME. 

Popular opinions as to the nature of Space 144 

"We do not learn that Space exists through the senses 146 

Opinions of metaphysicians on the subject 146 

Kant's doctrine : Space is the "pure form" of perception 146 

Is Kant's doctrine in harmony with the belief of mankind ? 148 

Cousin's theory of Space 149 

Mansel's theory of Space 151 

Do representations (images) occupy Space ? 152 

Hamilton's theory of Space 154 

Space is entirely unimaginable 156 

Theory of Space propounded in this volume 156 

Concerning Time 158 

CHAPTER VI.— THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 

Of the Form of thought, aa distinguished from the Form of intuition 162 

now to isolate; pun: thought from the intuitive matter with which it is 

blended 162 

Such isolation brings us to a science, of which grammar and logic arc the 

component parts 164 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. XV11 

PAGE 

Of the relation of thought to language 164 

What is a word? 167 

Notions exhibited in the parts of speech : Nouns, individual 168 

,, general 170 

Adjectives 172 

Verbs 175 

Pronouns 178 

Adverbs 179 

Prepositions 179 

Conjunctions 180 

Pure forms of Thought : 1. Number 181 

2. Quantity 181 

Comparison of quantity can be made only 
between finites 181 

3. Quality, likeness and difference 183 

Of the pure forms of thought exhibited in judgments 183 

4. Modality 184 

Summary. Results compared with Kant's categories , 18€ 

,, ,, ,, Aristotle's categories 188 

CHAPTER VII.— CAUSATION. 

That there is a consensus of popular belief concerning Cause 189 

Popular belief: Every change must have a Cause 190 

This Cause is supposed to exert Force 190 

Force is a simple presentation 190 

"Where there is no volition, there is no originating Force 190 
The so-called axiom "everything which begins to exist must have a 

cause" does not accurately express what men believe 191 

The search for causes comes to a stand, when we reach an act of volition 191 
Insuperable difficulties which arise, when the attempt is made to push it 

further 191 

Conclusion : — the search for causes is a search for volition underlying non- 
volition 193 

Primary belief implied in this searching 194 

Material changes exclude the belief of an increment or diminution of force 194 
Criticism of the theory that cause is no more than invariable sequence ... 195 



XV111 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Of the objection, that there seem to be some true forces in inanimate 
nature, — e.g. the force of gravitation 197 

Is it true that every act of volition is in fact determined by the balance 
of motives ? i%m 199 

Of objections to the views here propounded, deducible from theology 201 

Criticism of Mill's theory of causation 202 

CHAPTER VIII.-HAMILTON'S "PHILOSOPHY OF THE 
UNCONDITIONED." 

Summary of Hamilton's doctrine 212 

Synopsis of the arguments by which it is supported 213 

Examination of argument No. 1, — that the infinite is incogitable because 

unimaginable 214 

Examination of argument No. 2,— that the infinite must be incogitable, 

because the attempt to compare infinites leads to contradiction 221 

Examination of argument No. 3,— that a finite mind is ex vi termini 

inadequate to conceive the infinite 222 

Examination of Hamilton's deduction of the phenomena of causality from 

his philosophy of the unconditioned 224 

Conclusion 225 



CONCLUSION:.— PKIMARY BELIEFS IN RELATION TO 
THEOLOGY. 

CHAPTER 1.— THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

Question : Whether the philosophy of primary beliefs leads to a recogni- 
tion of the need of a revelation 229 

That the development of the human soul us a process which transcends 

the conditions of a life-time 230 

Of t! hat this development is the one final cause <>f human life 234 

Objection to this theory 237 

Of the idealizing t< adency 238 

pursuil of utility 242 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. XIX 

PAGE 

Of the sense of moral obligation 246 

Of the sense of sinfulness 251 

Of the desire for a "regeneration" 254 

That a revelation is necessary, in order to give adequate assurance of this 

regeneration 256 

Of the argument drawn from a supposed harmony of the moral nature ... 262 
Conclusion : that the philosophy of primary beliefs leads to the recogni- 
tion of Christianity 264 

CHAPTER II.— THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 

Question : Can there be limits to the authority of revelation over reason ? 266 

One limit : the revelation must satisfy the need above referred to 267 

Another limit : it must be defensible by arguments which do not contra- 
dict any primary belief 270 

Reasons why this limitation is essential 271 

The existence of miracles is not contradictory to any primary belief 274 

The standing point of English Catholicism.... 277 

Of the authority of the Scriptures 278 

Of the authority of the Church 280 

Of the supreme test of Christian truth 282 

Conclusion : adhesion to the Church of England is defensible by argu- 
ments which do not contradict any primary belief 283 

CHAPTER III.— THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 

Of the " damnatory clauses" in this creed 285 

These clauses, in their plain popular sense, are contradictory to primary 

beliefs , 286 

There is, however, another sense in which they may legitimately be taken 288 

This sense is not contradictory, but consonant, to the primary beliefs 290 

In this sense, these clauses convey an important truth 291 

Of the doctrine of eternal punishments ; with what reservations it may 

beheld 294 

Conclusion : the retention of this creed in our Liturgy is not a sufficient 
reason for refusing adhesion to the Church of England,., 295 



ERRATA. 



Page 80, line 7, for " confirm" read " conform." 
85, ,, 10, ,, " cogitable" read " cog Habile.' 
138, „ 20, „ " obscured" read "observed. 
185, „ 2, „ "grounds" read" modes." 
233. „ 23, „ "fall" raw? "fail." 



THE 

PHILOSOPHY OF PEIMAEY BELIEFS. 



INTRODUCTION. 

PRIMARY BELIEFS IN GENERAL. 
§ 1. Do Primary Beliefs Exist ? 

Supposing that a man doubts, or wishes to enquire into, 
the truth of an opinion which he has entertained upon any 
subject whatever, he can only remove his uncertainty by 
examining on what grounds he has come to entertain that 
opinion. He may find, perhaps, that it follows by fair 
reasoning from some other opinion as to which he feels a 
greater degree of confidence. Or he may have taken it 
up on the authority of some one whom he supposes wise 
enough to know what is true, and honest enough to say it. 
A thoroughly inquisitive mind will not long be satisfied 
with this. It becomes necessary to examine, why is the 
reasoning process to be relied upon ? whether the opinion 
which lies further back, and from which the doctrine 
under consideration is deducible, is really true ? how it is 
that the wise man who is his authority can have come to 
know the truth of the matter in question ? or the like ; 
and thus there may be a very long series of enquiries, one 
hanging upon or suggested by another, before our enquirer 
is brought to a stand. 

This train of questioning has, however, an end some- 
where. Our opinions do not all hang one upon another in 

l 



2 DO PRIMARY BELIEFS EXIST ? 

reciprocal dependence or as an endless series. The process 
of seeking backwards from our opinions to the true grounds 
of them will be found to lead us at last to certain beliefs, 
or notions, or modes of mental action, which necessarily 
involve beliefs or notions, which we have, we can't tell 
how or whence. It appears to us as natural to hold those 
beliefs, as to see, or hear, or use any of our senses ; yet we 
can as little explain or account for them, or reduce them 
to anything simpler, as we can explain or account for or 
simplify that which we mean by the colour scarlet, or the 
sound of the wind. But, just as any doubt one might 
have as to the reports of our outward senses is much 
cleared away by finding that everybody else has sensations 
of the same kind, so is it with these primary beliefs ; any 
misgivings we might entertain as to the legitimacy of our 
holding them are very much assuaged when we discover 
that everybody else is in the same condition, in this 
respect, with ourselves. 

Supposing the fact were established, that we have such 
beliefs, thus unaccountable and inexplicable, and that we 
all have the same beliefs, the most obvious explanation of 
this fact would seem to be, that we have them as it were 
implanted in us at our birth, holding them by the same 
title as our bodily senses, appetites, and passions, — simply 
in virtue of our constitution as human beings. That we 
.should be sent into the world ready equipped with sucli 
instruments for the attainment of truth hardly appears 
stranger than that, for example, we should be furnished 
beforehand — as on the most materialistic theory it is ad- 
mitted we arc — with a faculty of attention, always od the 
alerl to seize upon and spiritualize the impressions taken 
in through the bodily organs. 

We are, however, already on debateable ground. There 
have been metaphysicians, and those of very greal emi- 



DO PRIMARY BELIEFS EXIST ? 3 

nence, to whom this way of explaining the matter has 
appeared utterly unsatisfactory. That which has been 
called the Sensationalist school of philosophy in modern 
times, from the first followers of Locke down to Mr. J. S. 
Mill, declares war, and carries it on with the utmost 
animosity, upon the theory of primary beliefs — or, as the 
phrase used to be, " innate ideas/' The favourite metaphor 
in this school is that the mind of man is like white paper, 
with no mark or character of its own, simply open to 
receive impressions which come to it from without, through 
the senses. They are not content with saying — what can 
hardly be denied — that all a man's conscious knowledge 
comes to him by degrees after his birth ; they will not 
even allow that there may be in the mind of man, — latent, 
unknown even to himself, until brought to the surface by 
some external stimulus, — a special aptitude for working 
out trains of thought after some preordained form, — an 
aptitude which compels the mind to run as it were in one 
particular groove. According to this school, then, those 
which we call " primary beliefs" are pronounced to be 
nothing more than inductions from experience. 

Into this controversy it will not be necessary to enter, 
further than formalty to note its existence, and the brief 
outline of the course of argument which it involves. 

The onus probandi lies with the Sensationalists. They 
have undertaken to account for the origin of a certain 
class of human beliefs, the existence of which is admitted 
on both sides. They affirm that these beliefs come to us 
through experience by the senses. Their opponents simply 
say that they do not know whence these beliefs come : 
they find them to exist in man everywhere and always, so 
far as they have had the opportunity of observing, and 
they cannot trace them further back ; they infer, therefore, 
that they belong to man as man, just as his senses do. If 



4 DO PRIMARY BELIEFS EXIST ? 

any more ambitious speculators profess to know from what 
original these beliefs are derived, it certainly rests with 
them to exhibit the genealogy. 

Further, we have a right to demand, not simply that 
the Sensationalists shall somehow or other show us a possi- 
bility of deriving the beliefs in question from experience, 
but that they shall do this without maiming or mutilating 
the beliefs themselves. It no doubt is open to them to 
prove, if they can, that the beliefs are erroneous, or held 
with exaggeration as certainties when in truth only pro- 
bable. But it would be arguing in a circle, were it to be 
maintained that, first, all beliefs must come from experi- 
ence, for every one of them can be traced to and suffi- 
ciently accounted for by experience ; secondly, this or that 
general belief can be accounted for by experience up to a 
certain point, — that is to say, experience can lead us to 
something which closely though imperfectly resembles the 
belief in question ; thirdly, in so far as the general belief 
does not resemble that scientific counterpart of it which 
has thus been framed, the general belief must be erroneous, 
for it transcends experience, which is the only source of 
knowledge. 

It is not to be supposed that reasoners so acute as the 
founders of the Sensationalist school should have over- 
looked a fallacy which is so conspicuous when exhibited in 
tli is concise form. The materials for stating it in tin's 
form have, however, only been accumulated gradually, and 
the school Itself had acquired a sort of stability and even 
ascendancy before; its doctrines had been so far developed 
as to bring out their Inherent weakness. Thus the ibl- 
Lowers of that school were committed to a Line of argument 

which lias since been proved untenable. Locke himself 

begins his great work with a formal attack on the doctrine 
of innate ideas. The scope and leading purpose of the 



DO PRIMARY BELIEFS EXIST? 5 

work itself is, to exhibit the manner in which all the 
various furniture of the human understanding can be 
traced back to experience, — an experience of two very 
different kinds, experience of the outward world through 
the senses, and experience of the internal world enfolded 
in a man's own nature through what Locke not happily 
terms " reflexion," by which term he means something 
like " self-introspection." All this aims at that which I 
have marked as proposition 1st of the Sensationalist's argu- 
ment, — viz., " all beliefs must come from experience ; for 
every one of them can be traced to and sufficiently ac- 
counted for by experience." The followers of Locke — at 
least, the most eminent amongst them — ignoring for the 
most part his profound doctrine concerning what he calls 
"reflexion," attempted a task which he would never have 
ventured on, namely, to deduce all knowledge from ex- 
perience of the outer world through the senses. This task, 
for a series of years, and by one writer following another, 
was worked at until with amazing ingenuity there were 
produced, as results from outward experience, counter- 
parts, more or less resembling the originals, of some of 
the most difficult primary beliefs. All this looked very 
triumphant for the Sensationalists, until these facsimiles 
were attacked, in a sceptical spirit, by Hume, who demon- 
strated the worthlessness of some of the most important 
among them, without suspecting, apparently, that they 
were anything else but the original foundations of human 
knowledge. Hume appears to have been so rooted a 
believer in the Sensationalist school, which in his day had 
long been the predominant if not the only living school of 
philosophy, as to have honestly held by that which I have 
marked as proposition 3rd, — that, in so far as the general 
belief does not resemble that scientific counterpart of it 
which had been framed for him by his teachers, the general 



6 



DO PRIMARY BELIEFS EXIST f 



belief must be erroneous, since it transcends experience, 
which is the only source of knowledge. 1 Thus between 
them all the fallacious circle was completed. 

As we proceed in the present inquiry, we shall be able 
to see more clearly to how great an extent this maiming 
and mutilating of men's primary beliefs has been carried 
in the Sensationalist school — how severe has been the opera- 
tion of that Procrustean bed to which they have cut down 
all the productions of the human mind. Some examples 
of this are as follow : — 

1st. Absolute certainty, on any subject involving a 
universal proposition, is on this philosophy impossible. 
For, since ail knowledge whatever comes through the 
senses, and so is of particulars only, it cannot legitimately 
be extended to the universal. The highest attainable cer- 
tainty is no more, therefore, than a very high degree of 
probability. This is so, even with regard to the truths of 
mathematics. If we have a strong and rooted belief to the 
contrary, that belief is illusory. 

2nd. Reasoning is a process which loses some portion 
of its strength and value at each link in the chain. This 
would not be the case, could we construct major premisses 
which should be absolutely true ; but, this being impos- 
sible, since no general proposition can be more than pro- 
bable, there must be a diminution of probability with 
every step in the reasoning. 

3rd. Another result of this philosophy is that the popular 
notion concerning Substance must be illusory as trans- 
cending experience. In other words, what I really know 

1 Hume, treating of causal effioacy, Bays that if we pretend to have any just 
idea of Buch efficacy, we mnst produce Bome Instance wherein its operation! 
are obvious to the consciousness or sensation, failing which we must acknow- 
ledge thai the idea itself is impossible, "since the principle of innate ideas, 
vohteh alone eon save us from this dilemma, ha* been already refuted, and is 
now almoel universally rejected in the learned world" (Hum. Nat. i. 277). 



DO PRIMARY BELIEFS EXIST ? 7 

is that a stream of various life — a succession of images, 
impressions, thoughts, perceptions, is going on ; what I 
believe, but what I have no right to believe, is that, not 
only are there thoughts and impressions, but there is a self 
which thinks, and an external world or non-self, from 
which the impressions proceed. I have no right to believe 
either in a self or a non-self, as the substance or ground 
of the phenomena ; for the only thing which experience, 
my sole teacher, teaches me is, that the phenomena them- 
selves exist. 

4th. M. Cousin, in his Critical Examination of Locke on 
the Understanding, has pointed out several other instances 
in which the Sensationalists fail to account for, and are 
consequently compelled to dispute the validity of, some of 
the most recognised and firmly rooted beliefs of the human 
mind. For example, the idea of space, as something dis- 
tinct from and not limited to body ; and the idea of time, 
as something other than the mere succession of events ; 
space being regarded as the place of body, and time as the 
place of events ; are shown by that profound thinker — as, 
indeed, they had been shown by Kant before him — to be 
beyond the range of any experience derivable through the 
senses. 1 

5th. But perhaps the most striking and the best known 
among the failures of the Sensationalist philosophy is that 
which has reference to the popular belief concerning cause. 
Hume demonstrated that experience could only furnish us 
with a most inadequate substitute for this belief, viz., the 
notion of a constant sequence— the invariable succeeding 
of one thing to another. 2 Something happens, and we 

1 See Lecture ii., pp. 126 to 133; and Lecture iii., pp. 149 to 152, of Dr. 
Heury's translation. 

2 All ideas are derived from, and represent, impressions. We never have 
any impression that contains any power or efficacy. W~e never therefore have 
any idea of power" (Hum. Nat. i. 282). ... "A cause is an object precedent 



8 DO PRIMARY BELIEFS EXIST ? 

observe that whenever it happens some other thing happens 
too ; and we thereupon give to the former the name of cause 
of the latter. This is all that our experience of phenomena 
tells or can tell us ; more, indeed ; for experience cannot 
tell us that one particular thing always follows upon some 
other thing, only that it has done so in every case which 
has yet come under our observation. But the general 
belief concerning cause — the thing which has to be ac- 
counted for — is no less than this ; that every physical 
event which happens— every physical change — every move- 
ment — not only has but must have a cause. We cannot 
help believing thus : there seems a palpable absurdity in 
attempting so much as to question it. But if this belief 
either must have come to us through experience or ought 
to be discarded as groundless, it clearly ought to be dis- 
carded ; for it cannot have come to us by any experience. 
Our observing that, in very many instances, when one 
thing takes place some other thing also takes place, would 
certainly not of itself be sufficient to justify our believing 
that, whenever any event takes place, it is necessary that 
there should have been some other change as a cause for 
it. Not only is succession a different thing from cause ; 
for cause involves the idea of power, in addition to that of 

and contiguous to another, and so united with it that the idea of the one 
determines the mind to form the idea of the other, and the impression of 
the one to I'onn a more lively idea of the other" (lb. i. 298). Uy the " more 
lively idea" here spoken of, Hume apparently intends belief, which, aooording 

to this author, is merely an intense and lively image or idea, resulting from 
frequent repetition, "The fancy melts togetner all those images that concur, 

and extracts from them one single idea or image, which is intense and lively 
in proportion to the number of experiments from which it, is derived" (lb. i. 
246). 
Dr. Brown's once celebrated answer to Hume amounts only to this: thai 

We gain thrOUgb experience a belief in the uniformity of natural sequences, 
and that this belief represents all that is contained, or at an_\ rate all thai IS 
valid, in the belief of necessary causation. The weak points in this theory 
have beiii so distinctly pointed out by Sir W. Hamilton (beet. \\\i\. Met.) 
that it is unnecessary here to do mure than to note the fact that the theory 

has been refuted. 



ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY? 9 

a sequence ; but contingent succession does not involve 
necessary succession : it cannot be, then, that our experi- 
ence of contingent succession is of itself adequate to gene- 
rate a belief in necessary causality. 

In the face of these difficulties, it certainly seems the 
most prudent course, not, indeed, dogmatically to assert, 
still less to attempt to prove, the direct negative of the 
Sensationalist hypothesis, but to treat their positive hypo- 
thesis itself as at present non-proven, and to turn our 
thoughts into some different path. If the hypothesis that 
the mind of man is a pure blank, simply passive and neutral 
to receive impressions of whatever kind through the senses, 
fails to account for human knowledge and belief such as in 
fact it is, we should proceed to try whether our philoso- 
phizing will be more fortunate if we adopt the other hypo- 
thesis, and suppose that, of those beliefs or notions which 
the human race is possessed of, some indeed are adven- 
titious, as having been grafted in by external teaching or 
observation, but others are innate and part of the very 
staple of our intellectual being. 

This new point of departure for metaphysics was first 
(amongst the moderns) suggested by Reid, and has been 
followed out by Kant, Cousin, and Sir William Hamilton. 

§ 2. Are Primary Beliefs Trustworthy ? 

Assuming, then, that there may be certain beliefs which, 
even whilst latent, and before they have emerged upon 
the field of consciousness, have yet been operative in 
moulding a man's conscious opinions from the earliest 
dawnings of thought within his mind, being emplanted 
in his nature, and constituting a part of the spiritual 
mechanism, so to speak, by which he is made a reasonable 



10 ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY ? 

I 

being; and assuming further that it is in our power to 
ascertain which amongst our beliefs are thus innate and 
primary ; the next question to which we should direct 
our attention is, how should these primary beliefs be 
treated — what degree of reliance may we properly give to 
them ? 

In this are involved two questions which should care- 
fully be distinguished from one another. One is, Is this 
or that belief really a primary belief ? The other, Does 
the fact of our holding this or that primary belief establish 
that the thing believed is true ? Any philosophy of the 
primary beliefs, to be serviceable, must furnish us with the 
means of answering both these questions. 

In the present introductory discussion, it may be con- 
venient to begin with the second of them. Let us suppose 
that some particular belief has been sufficiently shown to 
belong to the class of innate primary beliefs, not suscep- 
tible of being traced back to anything more rudimentary, 
nor of being accounted for in any way, except from this 
character of being a part of our rational nature ; and let 
us endeavour to determine what degree of allegiance we 
ought to offer to such a belief. 

From the nature of the case, the belief in question can- 
not be proved by deduction or induction from anything 
else ; our only reason for believing it is that we find we do 
believe it. Were it not thus, the belief would not be a 
primary one. 

This being so, a sceptical argument immediately pre- 
sents itself to the mind. Are we justified in supposing a 
thing to be true, merely because, without having any 
reason for believing it, we do believe it P AVhat is to 
hinder this belief itself, natural and Innate if you please, 
Prom being a mere illusion p Supposing that, for sport or 
caprice, or from some motive beyond our capacity to 



ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY ? 11 

fathom, the human race had been created with an inherent 
aptitude to believe that which in fact were not true, there 
would be no possibility of their ever finding out the de- 
ception. This inherent warp in their mental constitution 
would be to them what a deflection in his compass would 
be to a mariner at sea, supposing that he could neither see 
sun nor stars, nor fall in with any other ship. The error, 
if uniform for the whole race, might be as self- consistent 
as any truth. Self- consistency, indeed, in such a matter, 
would prove absolutely nothing. But, if it is equally 
possible that these primary beliefs may be illusorj 7 as that 
they are not, and if it is impossible to verify them, or in 
any other way to determine which of these is the right 
supposition, must it not follow that all human knowledge, 
in so far as it rests upon beliefs of such a character, has no 
stronger foundation than the most absolute uncertainty ? 

Perhaps the best answer to such scepticism is to point out 
to what lengths it must carry us. 

Neither dogmatist nor sceptic has here any right to 
draw distinctions between the primary beliefs, accepting 
some and rejecting others. The authority of each and all 
stands or falls together. For it is now the question 
whether or not we are to refuse allegiance to these beliefs 
on the ground of their being unverifiable : and in this 
respect all our primary beliefs are alike. There are no 
doubt great differences between them as to the manner in 
which they affect the mind. We shall find, for example, 
as we proceed, that some of the primary beliefs come into 
play, — that is to say, make their appearance in our con- 
sciousness, and so come to be expressed in verbal proposi- 
tions, at a much earlier stage in a man's mental develop- 
ment than others do. Some are of much broader applica- 
tion and more general use than others.' Some, again, have 
had the good fortune to come athwart no controverted 



12 ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY ? 

doctrine in philosophy or theology, and so have been 
suffered to remain undisturbed in their hold upon men's 
minds ; whilst others, though perhaps held in no less 
esteem by the unperverted popular mind, have had their 
roots plucked at, and so have been discredited, by the 
followers of some sect or opinion to which they have been 
found inconvenient. Thus far, and perhaps in some other 
respects which it would be tedious to point out, there may 
be differences between one primary belief and another. 
There may of course be differences of degree as to the 
force of evidence upon the question whether this or that 
belief is or is not primary. But, when once it is admitted 
that a particular belief is primary, this then stands in 
precisely the same rank, as regards its authority over our 
minds, with any other primary belief. If we accept it, on 
the ground that it is a part of the original structure of our 
minds, then we are in consistency bound similarly to 
accept every other primary belief. If we reject it, on the 
ground that it cannot be verified, and so may for aught 
we know be illusory, then we are in consistency bound 
similarly to reject every other primary belief. All, then, 
so far as the present question is concerned, stand or fall 
together. 

Now, the full extent of our obligation to these primary 
beliefs, and the utter dreariness of our intellectual position 
in case we resolve on disowning them, can only be dis- 
cerned after [i somewhat detailed investigation of them. 
Some steps towards such an investigation will have been 
made as we proceed. What is now to be said, at the out- 
set, is only to be accepted provisionally, on the condition 
thai it shall eventually be proved. 

In the Hist place, then, that which appears to us the 
most .solid and unquestionable of all proofs, the evidence 
of our senses, is, under the influence of this scepticism, one 



ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY 



13 



of the first to break down. Our senses appear to inform 
us of the existence of what we call the external world, — 
of objects, outside, as it were, and apart from ourselves, 
and having an existence which is in a manner independent 
of us, and would continue the same whether our senses 
were to take cognizance of it or not. This opinion, how- 
ever, our sceptical philosophy will not permit us long to 
entertain. If there are objects existing in themselves, — if 
trees, and houses, and other human beings really have any 
sort of substantial existence, — yet it is certainly true that 
we can only look at these objects through the windows of 
our senses. It is our own brain, or, to speak more accu- 
rately, it is that portion or faculty of our mind which, in 
the popular language, is supposed to hold communication 
with the brain, by which we receive these impressions, per- 
ceptions, or whatever we may please to call them, which 
are supposed to teach us the existence of an external 
world. We believe that the medium through which we 
fancy we perceive external objects does not distort them, 
or at any rate that, if one sense distorts them, we have it 
in our power to correct this by the help of some other, or by 
comparing one observation with another. But what right 
have we to believe this ? Our belief that our senses tell 
us the truth, that the picture outside the window corres- 
ponds with the picture seen through the window, is only 
one of those unverified primary beliefs which it is settled 
that we are to reject as fallacious. For aught we can pos- 
sibly tell, there may be some refracting, distorting in- 
fluence in the medium, such that, whatever this outside 
world may really be, it shall at all events be wholly unlike 
that which it seems to us. But we must go further. 
Having thus shown that we have no reason whatever for 
supposing that the outside work 1 bears any likeness to that 
copy of it which we say we see and hear and touch, have 



14 ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRL T STWORTHY ? 

we any reason for thinking that there is any outside world 
at all ? TTe believe that there is. But this belief, unfor- 
tunately, is, like the other, a primary one, which it is im- 
possible in any way to verify. That which passes before 
what we call our mind's eye — a sort of dance of shadows — 
when we look and listen and taste and smell, or when we 
remember any of these operations, or when we think about 
them and compare one with another, somehow puts the 
fancy into our heads that these shadows have somewhere 
their corresponding substances. But we have no reason 
whatever for thinking so, beyond the fact that such is our 
belief. This, then, is but another of these delusive primary 
beliefs which our philosophy has refused to recognise. 

Sceptical philosophers have in all seriousness gone thus 
far. With remarkable inconsistency most of them have 
been content here to stop. The legitimate application of 
their own principle ought to carry them very much 
further. 

For, if the existence of an external world — the non-self 
— be thus questionable, the existence of a man's self is on 
their hypothesis equally so. That which we are really 
conscious of is, the existence of a certain suc3ession of phe- 
nomena, — of sights and sounds and every variety of per- 
ception, of remembrances, which appear to be like fainter 
copies of those perceptions, of thoughts, fancies, emotions, 
and the like. Of these phenomena, we ascribe some wholly 
and others in part to the supposed activity of a self, or 
cause, or substratum, which is thought to put forth a power, 
while these appearances are simply the productions of that 
power. We know thai there arc thoughts — we suppose 
therefore thai there is a being which thinks. Even this 
supposition, however, will be found upon a close inspection 
to be traceable to nothing more solid than a primary, thai 
is, an onverifiable, belief. 



ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY ? 15 

This will plainly appear to any man who can contrive 
for a few moments to divest himself of that rooted convic- 
tion which he probably entertains, that there is such a 
person as himself ; and will quietly consider what reason 
he has for thinking so. He thinks so, he will find, either 
simply because he is constituted so to think, or in virtue of 
a sort of notion in his mind that the various thoughts, 
images, and sensations of which he is conscious must have 
some cause for their existence. But why does he think 
that they must have a cause, — a receptive cause within 
any more than an exciting cause from without ? Turn 
the matter as one may, it seems impossible to account for 
the fact, that we think so, unless by saying that we appear 
to be so constituted that we cannot help having this belief. 
Here, then, we come again to a primary belief of the 
mind. If, however, we are sceptical as to primary beliefs, 
we have no reason to be otherwise than sceptical as to this. 
It is a belief which cannot be verified- It would be a 
mistake to say that we come to it by induction from the 
phenomena of which we are conscious. No induction can 
help us here. The phenomena are not in the least ac- 
counted for by this supposition of a substratum in which 
they inhere, — an unknown force, of whose workings they 
are the manifestations. Nor would it be in the least more 
difficult to explain the phenomena, on the supposition that 
the phenomena themselves were the only things which 
exist. That certain thoughts, feelings, and sensations 
should follow one another as a sort of phantasmagoria, 
without either any real objects to excite them, or any real 
thinking person to be the subject of them, is a hypothesis 
which is only incredible, or even improbable, because of 
that strong inward conviction to the contrary which, 
though unaccountable, appears to be implanted in the 
breast of every man. In other words, a man's sole war- 



16 



ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY 



rant for believing that lie himself exists, is, a primary 
belief of his own mind. 

These results, paradoxical as they may now appear, will 
probably be accepted more readily when the argument has 
been worked out more in detail. In the meantime, let 
thus much be assumed, and the remainder of the " sceptic's 
progress" may be very briefly sketched. 

In fact, this work has been already done, not only most 
ably, and in a manner the most agreeable to a reader, but 
so as to enforce conviction, having been done in all good 
faith and seriousness, by a votary of that philosophy which 
rejects primary beliefs. I refer to Professor Terrier's 
" Institutes of Metaphysics." 

In this book the learned writer demonstrates, with a 
happy mixture of logical deduction and pleasant illus- 
tration, that, if once there be conceded a part only — for 
he does not demand the whole — of this twofold scepticism 
as to the real existence of an external world and of the 
self, there must necessarily follow a state of intellectual 
confusion so thorough, so abject, that, after the author 
has demonstrated that it is not a state of mind which 
deserves the name of knowledge, he proceeds to establish 
that it is not even one that can be dignified with the name 
of ignorance, — since the term ignorance appears to denote 
some possibility of knowledge, which is more than the 
learned Professor is disposed to concede to the unfortunate 
race of man. 

Ferrier's starting point is this : — There is indeed a self : 
but, amongst the phenomena of which we arc conscious — 
thoughts, sensations, etc. — that flow of living which meta- 
physicians sometimes have termed " the phenomena of con- 
sciousness" — there is a mixture of self and non-self, and it, 
is not possible for human reason to disentangle these two 
ingredients. This postulate the Professor requires us to 



ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY ? 17 

grant him at the outset ; but when we have done so, he 
undertakes to deduce from it, by strict demonstration, that 
there can be no such thing as knowledge, in any proper 
sense of the term, attainable by the human race ; nor any 
such thing as even a legitimate ignorance. All things 
float in uncertainty. And not only does he undertake this, 
but it is not too much to say that he accomplishes it. ; at 
any rate, if he does not, it is excessively difficult to point 
out the weak place in his chain of reasoning. 

Now it will be seen at a glance that Mr. Ferrier's pos- 
tulate is based upon a partial adoption of the sceptical 
doctrine at present under consideration, namely, that our 
primary beliefs are not trustworthy because not verifiable 
by any other thing than themselves. No man, who has 
not been exercised in metaphysics, finds any great diffi- 
culty in distinguishing between these two ingredients of 
self and non-self in perception or in other forms of con- 
sciousness. This is strikingly apparent when we compare 
together two different modes of consciousness. Every man 
apprehends the difference between perception — e.g., seeing 
— and remembering an object formerly perceived. Every 
man (metaphysicians of course excepted) believes that in 
the former case there is the cooperation, so to speak, of 
something else in addition to the attention or other activity 
of his own mind ; while, in the latter case, he believes no 
less firmly that the entire work is done by his unassisted 
self. But why we thus believe — what instinct prompts us 
to it — this is an absolute mystery. We do believe it ; and 
the belief appears to be a primary and inexplicable one. 
For this reason, it appears that Mr. Ferrier has chosen to 
exercise his right to reject it as non-proven. Why he did 
not go a little further — why he should have chosen, on no 
more solid ground than another primary belief, to assume 
that there is such a being as a self at all, is a question 

2 



18 ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY? 

which we need not stay to ask. The Professor has chosen 
not to be so thoroughly sceptical as, on his own premisses, 
he had a right to be ; but he has been sceptical enough for 
his purpose, and for ours, since he has shown that, even 
without turning on the full power of his battery, he can 
demolish the entire fabric of human knowledge. 

This negative creed, however, is certainly very repug- 
nant to any mind which is in a healthy state. We have 
an aptitude for the quest after knowledge, and a pleasure 
in the attainment of a seeming certainty, which indicate, 
if not that we have been framed for the acquisition of 
truth, yet that, if we do indeed labour under such inca- 
pacity for the acquisition, there is a singular inharmony 
and even contradiction in our nature. If it be the fact, as 
Cicero has said, that men appear to have the same natural 
appetite for the research of truth that some dogs have for 
the chase or that horses have for running, 1 it certainly is 
a misfortune to have been inflicted with a passion which, 
on this hypothesis, can never be gratified, and only serves 
to mislead and beguile us. 

Let us see, therefore, whether we cannot find the means 
of escaping from this very unwelcome scepticism. 

Sir W. Hamilton brings forward the following argu- 
ment, to show that we ought to accept the authority of our 
primary beliefs as witnesses to the objective truth of the 
thing believed : — 

"How, it is asked, do these primary propositions — 
these cognitions at first hand, these fundamental facts, feel- 
ings, beliefs, — certify us of their own veracity ? To this 
the only possible answer is that, as elements of our mental 

1 Cicero is speaking of the Epicureans — "Hi non nderunt, ut ad enrsum 
<• '(|iiiiin, ad Lndagandum canem, sit: homines ad duos res, ut ait Aristoteles, 
intelligendum et agendum esse natum, quasi mortalem deum; contraque, ut 
tardem aliquem et languidam pecudem, ad pastum et ad procreandi volup- 
lutew, hoc divinum animal ortuni esse volueruut" (Do Fiiiibus). 



ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY? 19 

constitution, as the essential conditions of our knowledge, 
they must by us be accepted as true. To suppose their 
falsehood, is to suppose that we are created capable of 
intelligence, in order to be made the victims of delusion ; 
that God is a deceiver, and the root of our nature a lie. 
But such a supposition, if gratuitous, is manifestly illegiti- 
mate. For, on the contrary, the data of our original 
consciousness must, it is evident, in the first instance, be 
presumed true. It is only if proved false that their au- 
thority can, in consequence of that proof, be, in the second 
instance, disallowed" (Reid, p. 743). 

"It cannot but be acknowledged that the veracity of 
consciousness must, at least, in the first instance, be con- 
ceded. ' Neganti incumbit probatio/ Nature is not gra- 
tuitously to be assumed to work, not only in vain, but in 
counteraction of herself. Our faculty of knowledge is not, 
without ground, to be supposed an instrument of illusion. 
Man, unless the melancholy fact be proved, is not to be 
held organized for the attainment, and actuated by the love, 
of truth, only to become the dupe and victim of a perfidious 
creator" (lb. p. 745). 

It is very possible that we may come to the same con- 
clusion as Sir W. Hamilton, without being altogether satis- 
fied with the reasons by which he justifies that conclusion. 

All that is theological in his reasoning, for example, 
may very fairly be objected to as premature, if not as un- 
satisfactory. It must be borne in mind that we are now 
almost in the first stage of our inquiry. "We may not un- 
reasonably hope, as one result of our philosophizing, to 
gain from it some assistance in the study of natural the- 
ology. But, if we do hope this, we must guard most 
scrupulously against taking results of that study for granted 
at the outset, since otherwise we shall at last probably find 
ourselves reasoning in a circle. We must come to the in- 



20 ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY? 

vestigation unprepossessed, and to that end must force our 
minds into a state of artificial ignorance, in order to build 
up our knowledge upon a secure basis. We are not, there- 
fore, as yet in a position to determine whether the hypo- 
thesis of a Bens quidam deceptor be or be not more probable 
than that opposite hypothesis favoured by Hamilton, of a 
Deity, who, having endowed the mind of man with an 
appetite for truth and certainty, has done so with an inten- 
tion that truth and certainty shall be within its reach. 
We are not even supposed to know at present that a Deity 
exists. 

But, apart from this objection, even supposing us to be 
at liberty thus early to draw the results of theology into 
the service of philosophy, it might still be questioned whe- 
ther the manner in which this has been done by Hamilton 
is legitimate. With all our theology, there yet remains 
much that is inscrutable to human reason in the apparent 
designs of the Almighty with reference to the race of man. 
The existence of evil, and especially of moral evil, in the 
workmanship of a Being infinite in power as well as good- 
ness, is an enigma which may well teach us to be cautious 
how we assume d priori that such or such must be the pur- 
pose of the Omnipotent. We have a certain appetite : we 
assume therefore that the gratification of this appetite must 
have been among the purposes of our creation ; an assump- 
tion hardly more warrantable than would be the contrary 
assumption, that the controlling and mortification of the 
appetite in question, and so the elevation of our moral 
character at the expense of the intellectual part, has been 
the tiling intended. To these theories it is our duty at 
1 1ns stage to object that, with our present means of know- 
ledge, both are for us alike inadmissible. 

Ii is true that Hamilton puts forward this argument, 
founded on the supposed purpose of God and harmony of 



ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY? 21 

nature, merely as a sort of presumption or " argument of 
the first instance/' intended to be so far operative as to im- 
pose on the adversary the burden of proof. But, where it 
is a question of doubting, a man's adversary is himself, and 
he wishes for something more than such a mere technical 
or formal victory, as may be won by showing that the 
negative of the thing doubted cannot be proved. Indeed, 
scepticism is never thoroughly triumphant until it is able 
to say — " You cannot prove the positive — I cannot prove 
its negative : the question lies utterly beyond the range of 
human reason." Mr. Ferrier is not satisfied with proving 
that nothing can be known : he feels impelled to establish 
also that nothing can be unknown ; and would no doubt 
cheerfully admit, as the legitimate development of his own 
creed, that there is no certainty whatever in the chain of 
reasoning by which he himself has demolished the possi- 
bility of certainty in the abstract. 

Is it not, indeed, somewhat unreasonable to expect argu- 
ments to be brought forward in support of merely doubting 
anything ? If a man's doubts come from within, the fact 
of doubting implies a feeling that there is not sufficient 
assurance, in the way of proofs or otherwise, as to the truth 
of the thing doubted. Such doubt can only be removed by 
reviewing the evidence, and then finding that it really is 
sufficient : it cannot be got rid of by simply objecting that 
the onus probandi lies with the other side. So, if one man 
attempts to throw doubt upon the belief of another, all that 
he has to do is to bring that other into the same frame of 
mind as one whose doubt springs from within himself, — 
that is, to inspire him with a suspicion that his belief rests 
on insufficient grounds. But, to do this, he has simply to 
point out the insufficiency of those grounds, not to prove 
positively, either the truth of some contrary belief, or the 
impossibility of having certainty either for or against the 
belief in question. 



22 ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY? 

To return to SirW. Hamilton's argument. If we reject 
that portion of it which is founded on a supposed purpose 
of the Almighty, and that which concerns the onus pro- 
bandi, nothing remains beyond the assertion that " as ele- 
ments of our mental constitution, as the essential conditions 
of our knowledge," these primary beliefs " must by us be 
accepted as true." 

There is this inconvenience about the extreme concise- 
ness of Hamilton's style, that one cannot always feel sure 
of haying caught the meaning really intended by the 
writer. Here, assuming the meaning to be that we are 
compelled to accept the truth of our primary beliefs by the 
very fact that we are so constituted as to hold those beliefs, 
an argument is presented which it does not seem easy to 
answer. 

"When we believe a thing, and the belief clings to us and 
cannot be entirely shaken off, being fixed in our very 
mental constitution, it can hardly be said to be in our 
power really to question the truth of the thing believed. 
We are so constituted that we cannot help believing it ; 
that is to say, we are at any given moment persuaded that 
the thing is true ; and it is idle, therefore, to go about to 
shake this belief, — in other words, to ask a man not to be 
a man, — to ask a being, one part of whose very nature is 
to hold such or such a belief, to divest himself of that part 
of his nature. To persuade me that there is no sucli thing 
as a self, or an external world, or space, or time, or a cause, 
is to persuade me to unmake myself. I cannot really dis- 
believe these things. I cannot genuinely doubt them. 
The well-known confession of Eume, that, when lie left his 
writing desk and his lamp and went into the society of 
oilier men, he found his scepticism drop off, and caught 
himself perpetually believing as much as his neighbours, 
may serve; to show how unreal and insineero must be the 



ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY? 23 

attempt to disbelieve that which, our nature bids us to 
believe. 1 

If to this it be objected by any "one — "I am at this 
moment doubting — it must therefore be in my power to 
doubt," the true answer seems to be, " only wait, and see 
whether your doubt will not drop away of its own accord." 
The doubting, in such a case, will perhaps be found to have 
been the complex and artificial result of some course of rea- 
soning; based, perhaps, on some argument of analogy or 
probability, such as an inference from the errors which 
have been found to be mixed up in all science ; in which 
case it is sure to happen that the mind, if only left to itself, 
will, by the silent activity of some healthful internal in- 
stinct, spontaneously expel the noxious doubt, and restore 
itself to its normal state of belief. 

If this argument in favour of the validity of our primary 
beliefs, founded on the fact that we do and must hold them, 
and are therefore under a certain subjective necessity to 
accept them as truths, be not considered sufficient, at least 
it is open to us to accept the truth of them as a postulate. 
We may assume, in the way of hypothesis, that what we 
believe without a reason, what we believe because we appear 
to be so constructed from our birth that we cannot as a 
habit of mind believe otherwise, is really true. It may 
not be satisfactory that we should have to build our entire 

1 " As experience will sufficiently convince any one, who thinks it worth 
while to try, that, though he can find no error in the foregoing arguments, 
yet he still continues to believe, and think, and reason as usual, he may safely 
conclude that his reasoning and belief is some sensation or peculiar manner of 
conception, which 'tis impossible for mere ideas and reflections to destroy" 
(Hum. Nat. i. 322). . . "Nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, 
has determined us to judge as well as to breathe and feel; nor can we any 
more forbear viewing certain objects in a stronger and fuller light, upon 
account of their customary connexion with a present impression, than we can 
hinder ourselves from thinking as long as we are awake, or seeing the sur- 
rounding bodies, when we turn our eyes towards them in broad sunshine" 
(lb. 320, 321). 



24 ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY? 

fabric of knowledge upon a hypothesis : still, if we are in 
the position of being compelled to build it either upon this 
or upon the contrary hypothesis, this certainly appears to 
be the more reasonable of the two. 

Without pretending absolutely to decide between these 
two views — whether the objective truth of that which men 
primarily believe ought to be taken as proved, or treated 
as a thing to be assumed — it is proposed in these pages to 
proceed on the supposition that the object-matter of a 
primary belief is a truth. 

Before quitting this part of our subject, one remark may 
be added with reference to an argument which Hamilton 
deduces from a supposed harmony and self- consistency in 
our primary beliefs. 

" In the second place," says Hamilton, still continuing 
the same chain of reasoning, " though the veracity of the 
primary convictions of consciousness must, in the outset, 
be admitted, it still remains competent to lead a proof that 
they are undeserving of credit. But how is this to be 
done ? As the ultimate grounds of knowledge, these con- 
victions cannot be redargued from any higher knowledge ; 
and, as original beliefs, they are paramount in certainty to 
every derivative assurance. But they are many; they 
are, in authority, coordinate ; and their testimony is clear 
and precise. It is therefore competent to us to view them 
in correlation ; to compare their declarations ; and to con- 
sider whether they contradict, and, by contradicting, 
invalidate each other. This mutual contradiction is pos- 
sible in two ways. 1st. It may be that the primary data 
themselves are directly or immediately contradictory of 
each other ; 2nd. It may be that they are mediately or 
indirectly contradictory, inasmuch as the consequences 
to which Ibcy necessarily lead, and for the truth or false- 
hood of which they are therefore responsible, are mutually 



ARE PRIMARY BELIEFS TRUSTWORTHY? 25 

repugnant. By evincing either of these, the veracity of 
consciousness will be disproved ; for in either case con- 
sciousness is shown to be inconsistent with itself, and con- 
sequently inconsistent with the unity of truth. .... For, 
while, on the one hand, all that is not contradictory is not 
therefore true ; on the other, a positive proof of falsehood, 
in one instance, establishes a presumption of probable 
falsehood in all ; for the maxim, 'falsus in uno, falsus in 
omnibus/ must determine the credibility of consciousness, 
as the credibility of every other witness. 

" No attempt to show that the data of consciousness are, 
either in themselves or in their necessary consequences, 
mutually contradictory, has yet succeeded : and the pre- 
sumption in favour of the truth of consciousness has there- 
fore never been redargued" (Eeid, Note A, pp. 745, 746). 

Upon this passage it is to be noted that the true state of 
the case, as regards the self- consistency of our primary 
beliefs and of the consequences to which they severally 
lead, will probably be found to be this : — "Within a certain 
very extensive range of topics, there is a perfect harmony 
amongst our primary beliefs ; but beyond that range we 
come to seeming contradictions. Not so much in them- 
selves as in the consequences which by necessary reasoning 
appear to be deducible from them, it seems to us, on many 
points, as though our primary beliefs were in conflict with 
one another. This fact, taken in conjunction with the fact 
of their harmonizing so completely within the narrower 
range of thought which lies closely around our daily life, 
can hardly fail to suggest to us the hypothesis, not that 
our beliefs are unreliable altogether, but that there is a 
certain incompleteness about them, perhaps from their 
needing to be supplemented with some other beliefs or 
some other intellectual faculties, the necessity for which is 
not perceived so long as the mind is working within its 



26 THE TESTS OF A PRIMARY BELIEF. 

legitimate sphere of thought, but emerges into view so 
soon as we attempt to travel beyond our natural limits. 
The self-consistency of our primary beliefs within a given 
sphere, although it does not prove that the things believed 
are true, may yet suffice to overthrow that presumption of 
their entire falsity which it is attempted to found upon 
their want of self-consistency outside of that sphere. 

§ 3. The Tests of a Primary Belief. 

Let us now return to what was said at the beginning of 
the preceding section. 

Granting that there are such things as primary beliefs 
existing in the mind of man as man, and therefore common 
to all men ; and assuming further that such beliefs are 
valid — in other words, that the things thus believed are 
true ; we may now proceed to enquire, by what essential 
notes or characters we are to distinguish an original or 
primary belief from one that is derivative. 

Our beliefs, it will be found, are of two kinds : the one, 
such as are formed by degrees from experience, through 
observation whether of external things or of the workings 
of our own minds ; the other, such as are primary, in the 
sense above defined. If we enquire for tests, by which to 
determine whether this or that individual belief belongs to 
the first or the second class, we must search out those 
properties of a belief which may exist in those of one class 
but cannot exist in those of the other. Every such pro- 
perty will serve as a crucial test. It is well to have 
pal tests ; both for confirmation of one another, and 
because it may happen that, in this or that case, one or 
the other test may be the only one practically available. 

1. Experience is only of the individual: every general 
proposition which expresses a truth learnt through ex- 



THE TESTS OF A PRIMARY BELIEF. 27 

perience can, consequently, be traced back to something 
less general, and finally to individual facts of experience. 
There may, of course, through forgetfulness, or from other 
causes, be a difficulty in thus tracing back to its origin 
this or that particular experiential belief; but, theoretically, 
the thing is possible. If then we find that we have cer- 
tain beliefs concerning generals, which by no possibility 
can be traced back to anything more individual, such 
beliefs cannot have come through experience. 

2. If we have a belief that some general proposition not 
only is true, but cannot but be true- — in other words, is 
necessary — this belief cannot have come to us by experience. 

This will be found to follow from the way in which 
knowledge through experience is acquired ; which is, first 
by simple accumulation of particular facts, and then by a 
mental process ascending in the way of induction to truths 
more and more general. But if by the term " general 
proposition" we understand some proposition which is to 
hold good for individual cases, which have not yet been 
observed, as well as for those which have, — e.g., for future 
cases as well as for the past, — then it is clear that no 
experience can give the right to affirm dogmatically that 
any such general proposition is necessarily true, — in other 
words, that no case to the contrary is possible. For, to 
affirm this, would be to fall into the error which is pointed 
out by Mr. Babbage in his Bridgewater Treatise, of those 
who, observing that a certain series of numbers, the law of 
whose progression they are ignorant of, have gone in regular 
arithmetical progression from number one to number a 
thousand, hastily infer, not that it is probable, but that 
it is certain and necessary, that number one thousand 
and one shall be in the same ratio of progression ; which, 
in the instance Mr. Babbage gives, is not the fact. An 
induction, from a large number of individual cases ob- 



28 THE TESTS OE A PRIMARY BELIEF. 

served, as to some case not j^et observed, may give an 
exceedingly high probability, but never can give such an 
absolute certainty as that we can say the fact cannot be 
otherwise. In other words, general truths of experience 
can never be held by us as necessary truths. 1 

3. Beliefs which come through experience, being 
founded on knowledge which is cumulative, having every 
shade of probability, so that perhaps no two such beliefs 
are held by any man with precisely the same strength, 
appear to grow upon the mind, or perhaps to lose force, as 
proofs accumulate, or as the recollection of them grows 
fainter. If, then, we find we have some belief, which has 
undergone no change of this kind, and is not susceptible of 
such a change, but continually dwells in the mind as it 
were fullgrown and perfect, having the same degree of 
evidence for us in all moods and at all ages, such a belief 
must be a primary belief ; for it cannot have come through 
experience. 

This test, however, it must be admitted, is one difficult 
of application, and perhaps of small value ; since it may 
be doubted whether any of our beliefs are thus full-grown 
and perfect, so that we can confidently infer from their 
completeness that they are not susceptible of more or less, 
excepting such beliefs as are also necessary, and so dis- 
cernible by our second test. 

The above three tests serve to indicate beliefs which 
cannot be empirical (experiential). Those which follow 
may serve, on the other hand, to mark beliefs which can- 
not be primary, and so must be empirical or derivative. 

1 The contrary opinion is strenuously maintained by so great an authority 

as Mr. .J. s. Mill. His controversy on this subject with Dr. Whewell, con- 
tained in Book ii. cli.'ip. v. of his great book on Logic, deserves careful study, 
h will be shown, however, at a later stage, that Mr. Mill's argument results 

in (his,— that OUT belief in necessary truths is in every ease illusory. At 

present, our postulates are, that there are such beliefs, and that such beliefs 
arc primary, and that the object oi' a primary belief is a truth. 



THE TESTS OF A PRIMARY BELIEF. 29 

4. A primary belief cannot be traced back to anything 
else. Consequently, it is not made up of, and cannot be 
explicated into, a plurality of beliefs ; neither can it be 
comprehended, so that we can say how or why it is. A 
belief, therefore, which i3 not simple, or which is not 
incomprehensible, cannot be primary. 

"A conviction is incomprehensible," says Hamilton, 
" when there is merely given us in consciousness that the 
object is (on eart), and when we are unable to comprehend 
through a higher notion or belief why or how it is (Siort 
eari). When we are able to comprehend why or how a 
thing is, the belief of the existence of that thing is not a 
primary datum of consciousness, but a subsumption under 
the cognition or belief which affords its reason." 

5. A primary belief must be universal. For it is sup- 
posed to be a belief inherent in our nature as man, and 
may be termed a portion of the mechanism by which we 
are made intelligent beings. If therefore it can be shown 
that a given belief is not common to the species, such 
belief cannot be primary. 

In applying this test, it must be borne in mind that no 
argument can be founded on the mere fact that a certain 
belief is not developed in the consciousness of all men ; 
since our primary beliefs are often latent, secretly opera- 
tive in moulding our opinions, long before they have been 
presented to the mind, and accepted by it as truths, in the 
form of articulate propositions. 1 

In what has here been said, no notice has been taken of 

1 To the five tests here enumerated, may he added the first and second tests 
given by Buffier: — " 1st. That the truths assumed as maxims of common 
sense should be such, that it is impossible for any disputant either to defend 
or to attack them, but by means of propositions •which are neither more 
manifest nor more certain than the propositions in question ; and, 2ndly, that 
their practical influence should extend even to those individuals who affect to 
dispute their authority" (Stewart, Elem. ii. 61). For some account of 
Buffier' s system, see Reid, p. 467. 



30 



THE TESTS OF A PRIMARY BELIEF. 



a third class of beliefs, which, however, for the sake of 
completeness ought not to .be passed over. These are, 
derivative beliefs of pure reason. Every empirical belief 
concerning generals must, as has been seen, be derivative, 
since experience begins with individuals. But not every 
derivative belief is empirical, since pure logical deductions 
may be made from primary beliefs, which deductions are 
or may become beliefs in their turn. These derivative 
beliefs are to be distinguished from the primary beliefs by 
means of the fourth test : they can be traced back to some- 
thing else. 

Finally, it is to be noted that, in the application of this 
philosophy of primary beliefs, care must throughout be taken 
not to confound with a primary belief the personal convic- 
tions which a man may have acquired from education, 
accidental association, or prejudice of whatever land ; from 
which error the best safeguard appears to be, the habitual 
testing of a man's own beliefs by comparing them with 
those of of her men. " The Cartesian appeal to our own 
consciousness, " says Hallam, "just as it is in principle, 
may end in an assumption of our own prejudices as the 
standard of belief. Nothing can be truly self-evident but 
that which a clear, an honest, and an experienced under- 
standing in another man acknowledges to be so" (Lit. 
Hist. vol. ii. p. 456). And from the same wise and tem- 
perate writer a further development of this caution may be 
borrowed, namely, that the persons to whom we should 
in preference make such an appeal, when it is a question of 
the prevalent belief of mankind on any subject, and espe- 
cially on moral subjects, are, not theorists, who may easily 
be warped, but rather orators, poets, or men conversant with 
the business of ordinary life. " On such matters, poets and 
orators arc the most unexceptionable of all witnesses, for 
they address themselves to the general feelings and sym- 



THE TESTS OF A PRIMARY BELIEF. 31 

pathies of mankind ; they are neither warped by system, 
nor perverted by sophistry ; they can attain none of their 
objects, they can neither please nor persuade, if they dwell 
on moral sentiments not in unison with those of their 
readers" (Lit. Hist. vol. ii. p. 580). 



32 



PART I. 

ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 



CHAPTEE I. 
OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN GENERAL. 

In all systematic thinking, we are to proceed from the 
more known to the less known ; for which reason it is a 
matter of the utmost importance that we should select the 
right starting point. 

There are, in metaphysics, three possible starting poiuts — 
matter, mind, and conscious life. Between these we have 
to choose. 

1. The thing which to the mind untrained in mental 
science appears the most certain of all things, and there- 
fore the thing most proper to be taken for granted at the 
outset, is, the reality of the material world. We are ready 
to believe the testimony of our senses. There is something 
solid and real about things; the realm of thought appears 
comparatively shadowy and unsubstantial. 

Accordingly, wc find that all the earlier tendencies of 
metaphysical inquiry arc to take Tilings as the starting- 
point, and from them to feel out a way to the existence of 
Thoughts. Up to the " cogito ergo sum" of Descartes, it 
may be stated generally that, so far as there was in meta- 
physical inquiry a scientific procedure from the known to 



OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN GENERAL. 33 

the unknown, as distinguished from d priori reasoning from 
some assumed general notions, the point of departure com- 
monly taken was the objective existence of material sub- 
stances. 

That, however, the existence of Things is not our true 
starting point seems to be tolerably obvious upon a little 
reflection. We are thinking ; that is certain, for we are 
attempting to construct for ourselves a system of thought ; 
yet, strange to say, while we are thus engaged, the thing 
which seems to us the most certain of all things is, that 
stones or trees or books exist, — objects apart from our- 
selves, and whose essence we have not yet considered whe- 
ther we have the means of comprehending, — whilst, in the 
very act of forming this judgment, we are exemplifying a 
truth which is much nearer to our own knowledge, namely, 
that thoughts exist. 

However real and substantial may be the objective exist- 
ence of stones and trees and books, yet our knowledge of 
this existence, if we have any, must have come to us through 
our senses and through our faculty of reason. That the 
knowledge be genuine, supposes the fulfilment of two con- 
ditions ; first, that our senses report truly ; and, secondly, 
that our reason, by which the isolated and piecemeal reports 
of the senses are combined, through memory and comparison, 
into a mental whole, work accurately. But these conditions, 
being conditions of the mind or self, must be examined, if 
at all, by a survey from within : no reasoning founded on 
the supposed realities of material substances can avail us 
for this purpose. 

2. Shall, then, the starting point for metaphysics be 
taken to be, the nature of a man's own self ? 

Unfortunately, all that a man knows about that self, 
when he examines closely, appears to be, that there must, 
he thinks, be some cause for the thoughts and feelings and 



34 OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN GENERAL. 

various sensations of which he is conscious, and that he 
feels a certain identity underlying all these dissimilar 
phenomena. To this unknown cause, thus identical or 
one, he gives the name of self. This is really all that he 
knows about that mysterious essence. I know that 
thoughts and feelings and sensations exist within or before 
a consciousness which I call mine : why or how they come, 
or what brings them, I cannot tell in the least. I believe 
— though why I do so, I have no guess — still, I do believe 
that there must be some force or cause which puts forth 
these thoughts, as a fountain underground throws up water 
to the surface ; and to this mysterious, unaccountable, pro- 
bably primary, belief, I owe the conviction that I myself 
exist. 

But, while I am thus entirely in the dark as to what 
this self is, I certainly cannot, if I am to proceed from the 
known to the less known, take this mystery as my starting 
point. 

3. The true point of departure for metaphysics, then, is 
neither the nature of the non-self nor the nature of the 
self. But there is one thing which at the outset is certain 
and indisputable for every man as soon as he begins to 
think ; namely, the existence of his own consciousness. 
By this term is to be understood, not some faculty or power 
of the mind, but simply the aggregate of those phenomena 
which make up a man's life. At some times, I am con- 
scious of seeing what appear to be objects external to 
myself, or of hearing sounds, or perceiving this or that 
sensible impression. At another time I am conscious of 
undergoing pleasure or pain, anger, regret, or some other 
emotion. Now perhaps I am conscious that I am follow- 
ing out some train of abstract thought. To all these states 
of life there La this common, — that I am conscious of being 
somehow busied about something or other. The facts or 



OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN GENERAL. 35 

phenomena of consciousness are like beads upon a string — 
the string being the self. Each fact is a complete thing 
in itself; one fact follows another in an uninterrupted 
succession through one's waking life ; and it may be that 
this succession of fact after fact is our only natural measure 
of time. 

There is about consciousness a sort of certainty peculiar 
to itself. It is possible for me, when I see a rose, for 
example, to doubt that there is any real rose, external to 
myself : I may hold the vision to be something ideal 
simply ; but it is not possible for me to doubt the fact of 
consciousness — I at any rate see the appearance of a rose. 
It is so with all the facts of consciousness. I may doubt, 
as philosophers have doubted from of old, whether there be 
objects external to myself. It is not possible for me to 
doubt that the appearance as of such objects is present to 
my consciousness. All this succession of facts or ap- 
pearances which seem to be flowing onward for me in a 
perpetual stream may possibly be a mere phantasmagoria : 
its suggestions of an external world may be illusory ; but 
at any rate the facts or appearances are there. 

As this term " the consciousness" plays a very impor- 
tant part in metaphysics, it is necessary that we should 
from the outset have a clear notion as to what we mean 
by it. 

It is extremely difficult, however, if not impossible, to 
define the consciousness, as it would be to define the 
simpler perceptions, such as any primitive colour ; con- 
sciousness being the only mode in which we ourselves 
continually think and perceive, so that, for us to stand 
apart from it, and contemplate it from the outside, we 
ought to have a nature different from our own. 

Would it be possible to explain it in the way of analogy ? 
We might say that a man's consciousness should be com- 



36 OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN GENERAL. 

pared to that surface of coloured light which is made by 
the sunbeams impinging upon the earth. The beams, we 
may suppose, travel through the spaces of aether in dark- 
ness ; the earth without the beams is dark also ; yet there 
is this quality about these two dark substances, that, at 
every point at which they come into contact with each 
other, light is evolved ; and thus, of the points at which 
these beams are variously broken, is made up the painted 
surface of the earth, and of the heavens, the sole objects of 
human vision. In a somewhat similar way, — if for the 
moment we assume without proof the real objective exist- 
ence of a self and an external universe or not-self, — it 
appears that these two dark and latent substances, of 
natures which in their essence are absolutely unknown to 
us, do somehow impinge upon one another, and at every 
point of contact the intellectual light of consciousness is 
evolved ; and, as we live on, these points multiply and 
spread, until at last there gathers about us a long, many- 
coloured, various, conscious experience, a wealth of internal 
life, which in its aggregate makes up the sum of all we 
know, and think, and mentally perceive and feel, just as 
the coloured surface of the sunlight makes up the whole of 
what our eyes see in the daytime. 

In consciousness, we are at one and the same moment 
conscious of a certain object, whether perception, remem- 
brance, fancy, or abstract or purely rational notion, and of 
a certain faculty or activity of ourselves, which is busied 
about that object. These two things, the object and the 
subject of consciousness, are most intimately connected 
together in every datum or act of consciousness; it is 
perhaps hardly possible for us to think of either as existing 
apart from the other: still, it is in our power 1<> direct 
our attention, at one time principally to the objective, at 
another principally to the subjective, t ingredient in this 



OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN GENERAL. 37 

complex act of consciousness. It is the subjective element 
— the faculty of being conscious — which no doubt origi- 
nally gave its name to the entire operation. The term 
" consciousness" implies a quality inherent in some sub- 
stance, of being conscious, — Le., of at once knowing, and 
knowing that it knows, — of having a certain power of 
reflex action about its own operations. Thus the very 
grammatical form of the word implies a belief that there is 
a self, or substance, of whose properties this being con- 
scious is one. 

It would be convenient, perhaps, if there were some 
other term to denote the objective contents of conscious- 
ness, — the aggregate of the phenomena of which we are 
conscious. At the same time, the fact that there is no 
such term in use, is not without significance. It indicates 
the peculiar closeness of union which exists between the 
act of being conscious and the object matter of con- 
sciousness. This is a point which it will be necessary to 
consider more in detail by and bye. There are, on this 
subject, two extreme views. One is, that of Professor 
Ferrier, to which reference has already been made, — viz. 
that the two ingredients are actually inseparable in 
thought. The other is that of Reid, who ascribes the 
cognizance of objects to one faculty, and the cognizance of 
one's own mental activity in taking cognizance of objects, 
to another separate faculty : narrowing the term conscious- 
ness to self- consciousness ; and supposing a possibility of 
knowing an object, apart from the separate act — for such 
he considers it — of knowing that we know it. 

"I am conscious," says Heid, " of perception, but not of 
the object I perceive ; I am conscious of memory, but not 
of the object I remember." 

Upon this view, every mental act whatever has a sort of 
double nature, being the result of two distinct sets of 



38 OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN GENERAL. 

faculties. When I look at a chair, my consciousness — 
according to Reid — informs me that I am undergoing the 
mental state of looking at a chair, while some other faculty 
informs me what the chair looks like. When I remember 
a matter which took place yesterday, consciousness ac- 
quaints me with the fact that I am remembering in some 
special manner, but it is some other faculty which informs 
me what the thing is which I am remembering. And so 
on of imagining, of pure thinking, and all the other 
phenomena of conscious life. 

Reid's doctrine on this point is assailed by Hamilton in 
his 12th and 13th Lectures on Metaphysics. 

In imagining, for example, we must have an object 
imagined, and this object may be such as has no existence 
out of the mind, — e.g., a centaur. When we imagine a 
centaur, can it be said that we are conscious of imagining 
a centaur, but are not conscious of the centaur imagined ? 
" Nothing can be more evident," says Hamilton, " than 
that the object and the act of imagination are identical. 
What is the act of imagining a centaur but the centaur 
imaged, or the image of the centaur ; what is the image of 
the centaur but the act of imagining it ? The centaur is 
both the object and the act of imagination ; it is the 
same thing viewed in different relations, just as a square 
is the same figure, whether we consider it as composed of 
four sides, or as composed of four angles, or as paternity is 
the same relation whether we look from the son to the 
father, or from the father to the son" (Hamilton, Lect. 
Metaph., i. 214). 

Hamilton commences his refutation of Reid with the act 
of imagination, as being the simplest, because in it the 
object of which we arc conscious need have no existence 
but in the mind Imagining. The act of imagining is not 
accompanied by a belief that the thing imagined either 



OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN GENERAL. 39 

exists now or ever did exist. But, when this difference 
between imagining and either perceiving or remembering 
is allowed for, the same objection to Reid's doctrine holds 
good in the case of perceiving or of remembering. It is 
not possible, in either of these phenomena, to distinguish, 
— as independent facts, such as can with any propriety be 
regarded as the results of two separate powers, — the being 
conscious of some special mental modification, and the 
modification itself of which we are conscious. They may 
be distinguished, indeed, as being the same thing regarded 
from different points of view ; but that is all. 

In like manner, in pure thinking, and in being con- 
scious of one's own states of feeling, past or present, the 
subjective state of being conscious, and the thing or object 
of which we are immediately conscious, are shown by 
Hamilton to be only two different aspects of the same 
thing. 

What has here been said concerning consciousness may 
suffice to explain what it is, and why it is the true starting 
point of metaphysics. 

It is always to be understood that it is each man's indi- 
vidual consciousness which is the starting point for him- 
self. The speaker or writer expresses himself from his 
own point : the hearer or the reader is to interpret what is 
uttered by a constant reference to his own. 



40 



CHAPTEE II. 

OF AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 

I am supposed, then, to have taken my stand upon this 
middle ground between the self and the nom self, my own 
consciousness. I recognize the fact of this various, parti- 
coloured, succession of appearances or realities which are 
following one another as if upon a theatre at which I am a 
spectator. 

So far, I feel myself to be on secure ground. When 
once I have grasped the meaning of the term consciousness, 
there is no room for doubt as to its real existence subjec- 
tively to myself. Whatever be the nature of this stream 
of conscious life which is for ever flowing forward within 
or before me, the fact is certain, that the stream is flowing 
on. I do not at present say " cogito, ergo sum," but 
" cogitationes sunt." 

But I desire to make some advance from this starting 
point. How is this to be done ? 

Probably the first step to be taken is to make an orderly 
classification of the data or facts which go to make up this 
aggregate, my consciousness. If the data unquestionably 
exist while yet in the pre-scientific state, when they are 
mixed together confusedly, having no recognised relation 
to one another except that of elironological sequence, they 
must exisl none the less certainly after they have been 
methodized. That is, Li must be so, provided there is no 
loss of truth or certainty in the mere process of classifying, 



OF AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 41 

a point which will have to be considered towards the close 
of the present chapter. 

I. — One convenient sub-division of the data of conscious- 
ness is, into cognitions and non-cognitions. 

When I have a perception through the senses — when 
I see, hear, or taste,— there are in this fact two distinct 
ingredients, which, however inseparable in themselves, in- 
asmuch as I cannot see, hear, or taste, in this special man- 
ner, without the presence of both, yet are separable as 
objects of thought. One of these ingredients is the know- 
ledge — the other is the pleasure or pain — which comes to 
me through the sensation. That these two are separable 
in thought may be clearly seen, if it be considered that, as 
a matter of fact, the two ingredients are usually found to 
be in inverse ratios to one another in our sensations. Those 
senses which are the most instructive carry with them the 
least mixture of pleasure or pain, The sight teaches us 
more than the palate or the nose ; but the purely physical 
pleasure which we derive through the eye is feeble when 
compared with the effects of those other senses. 

Of these ingredients of sensational apprehension, the 
former, the purely cognitive, is in the language of meta- 
physicians usually styled the perception, — the latter, the 
sensation. 

Sir W. Hamilton points out the inconvenience of using 
the same term, " perception," to denote at once the faculty 
by which we perceive and the individual act of perceiving ; 
and he prefers that we should employ the term " percept" 
to distinguish the latter. This seems a convenient course. 

The term " pleasure or pain," here used to denote that 
part of the datum of consciousness which is not a cognition 
may perhaps not be sufficiently exact or comprehensive. 
It is only taken for want of a better phrase. I perceive 



42 OF AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 

an object. In so doing, I am conscious of a certain cogni- 
tion, i.e. I learn something — I acquire a certain knowledge, 
whether it be that such or such an object exists, that it is 
of a given colour, of such a degree of hardness, or the 
like — no matter what. This is one portion of what I ex- 
perience in this act. It is not, however — at any rate it 
may not be — the whole. Over and above the knowing, 
there is, in many acts of consciousness, a certain purely 
sensational ingredient, which carries with it something of 
either pleasure or pain. As the former is distinguished 
by the term cognition, or act of knowing ; so the latter, of 
which we know only that it is non-cognitive, may be dis- 
tinguished by the term Feeling. 

To define what Knowing is, and what Feeling is, and 
wherein the two differ, would be as impracticable, and 
fortunately also as unnecessary, as to define what we mean 
by the colours red and blue and their difference. The 
former, like the latter, are primary intuitions, and can be 
traced no further back. 

The non-cognitive portion of the data may further be 
distributed under Feelings and Volitions. We are con- 
scious not merely of passively undergoing pleasure and 
pain, but also of having within ourselves a certain active 
force, which originates instead of being only worked upon. 
Thus we have the threefold division of consciousness, 
adopted by Hamilton, into Cognitions, Feelings, and 
Volitions. 

It is not affirmed that these three operations, thinking, 
feeling, and acting, make up the whole of conscious human 
life : there may be other modes of consciousness not com- 
prehended under any one of them ; but these constitute 
three great well-defined classes or branches, under which 
it is convenient to distribute the study of the laws of con- 
sciousness. 



OF AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 43 

II. — In the next place, confining our attention to the 
cognitive element of consciousness, and proceeding with 
our task of classifying, we may sub-divide the cognitions 
under the following heads : — 

Presentations 1. Percepts, or external presentations. 

2. Internal presentations. 
Representations . . .3. Remembrances. 

4. Acts of imagination. 
Notions 5. Thought proper. 

1. Percepts. — A percept may be defined — the cognitive 
element in an act of sensation. To certain portions of the 
data of consciousness there is annexed a belief that the 
datum indicates, or rather is, a coming into contact with 
something which is not one's-self. When I touch, or see, 
an object, I am irresistibly impelled to believe that in the 
very act of seeing or touching there is a species of juxta- 
position between the mind which apprehends and the object, 
foreign to the mind, which is apprehended. The precise 
extent and the significance of this belief must be reserved 
for future consideration ; at present, the fact has simply to 
be noted, since the belief in question constitutes the cri- 
terion by which perceptions are distinguished from other 
data of consciousness. 

2. Acts of internal presentation. — By internal pre- 
sentation is to be understood perception directed inwards 
upon oneself. When I am directly conscious of being 
happy, or suffering, or angry, or, in short, experiencing 
any emotion, or of putting forth any act of will, I appear 
in the act of mentally surveying that state of my own self, 
to be in direct mental juxtaposition with some particular 
state of my mind, in a manner closely analogous to that 
juxtaposition with an external object which takes place 
when I see or touch it. 

These two states of consciousness, having much in com- 



44 OF AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 

mon with, one another, are classed together by Hamilton 
under the name of Presentations. In both, the object, 
whether external to the self, or a mere affection or modifi- 
cation of the self, appears to be presented immediately to 
the consciousness. It does not recal or refer back to some- 
thing else, but is a thing original and complete in itself. 

3. Remembrances — Remembrance, when in its most per- 
fect state, appears to be a species of reproduction, more or 
less incomplete, of some perception or internal presentation 
formerly experienced. More precisely stated, a remem- 
brance is a presentation which is accompanied by a belief 
that there has preceded it in time some other presentation, 
to which the datum itself, the second presentation, bears 
some kind of imperfect resemblance. The remembrance, 
then' is properly termed a " re-presentation ; " since it is 
necessarily accompanied by a belief that it is a second 
presentation of that which has been presented to our con- 
sciousness before. 

The peculiar relation which remembrances bear to Time, 
will be considered more at large hereafter ; as will also be 
the distinctive difference between percepts and remem- 
brances, as to their relation to the self, — viz., that a per- 
cept is believed to involve the cooperation of the not-self, 
while a remembrance is believed to be an act of the self 
alone. 

It is further to be observed that there may be remem- 
brances, not onty of percepts or self-intuitions, but also of 
other remembrances, and even of pure thoughts. 

4. Imaginations. — It will be found upon a close exami- 
nation, that what we commonly call imagining is simply 
remembrance stripped of the belief in the past actual 
existence of the thing remembered. This psychological 
fact will of course require proof, and is at present only 
stated hypothetical]}'. It will appear, however, that in 



OP AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 45 

the wildest play of our imagination, every one of the 
ingredients has at some former time been supplied either 
through perception or through internal presentation. We 
have the faculty to take the visionary part, so to term it, 
of remembrance apart from the belief which is its comple- 
ment ; and, having done so, to recombine at will, or at 
least after laws entirely different from the laws which 
govern our remembrances, these visionary portions into 
new forms, which may or may not have counterparts in 
the world of presentation. We can imagine a centaur, 
though we never have perceived nor can remember one ; 
but we could not imagine one, had we not perceived, or 
were we unable to remember, those parts of man and 
horse which by their fancied combination make up the 
imagined centaur. 

In this sense remembrances and imaginations fall under 
the same class, since both carry us back to some former 
perception, or direct presentation, of which each is a species 
of repetition. For this reason, both are styled acts of re- 
presentation. 

5. Thoughts. — The last of these subdivisions consists of 
thoughts, properly so called. These are distinguished 
from representations, partly at least, by their symbolical 
character. A thought or notion is denoted by a word, and 
thenceforth, in all mental operations conversant about that 
notion, the word, or mark set upon it, is used in place of 
the thing signified. By this means mental operations are 
facilitated, much in the same way as in the symbolical 
language of algebra. 

We may have notions, where representations are not 
possible. Thus we may have notions of classes, as men or 
dogs ; while classes cannot be represented, because to re- 
present we must imagine details, which may not belong to 
the class as such. We may have notions of relations, as 



46 OF AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 

such, or of negatives ; neither of which can be repre- 
sented. 

It is not necessary here to anticipate what can be more 
clearly understood and more amply discussed at a later 
stage, when we come to treat of Notions. Without at 
present entering upon any controverted points, it is enough 
to say that, under one name or another, as ideas, concep- 
tions, or notions, there is pretty generally recognized the 
existence of a mode of consciousness, different in kind from 
the acts of perceiving, self- intuition, remembering, or 
imagining. To this fifth mode belongs the whole work of 
discourse or reasoning. 

This, then, is one way of subdividing the cognitive 
element of consciousness. It is not necessary to affirm 
that it is exhaustive : there may be modes of cognition 
which do not fall under any one of these classes ; but these 
classes correspond to broad and clearly defined differences 
of mode, which it is convenient to consider separately. 

Let us now revert to the question which at the outset of 
this chapter was reserved for further consideration, viz., 
Have I, in thus reducing some of the data of my conscious- 
ness under classes, parted with any portion of that absolute 
certainty with which I was able to affirm for myself the 
existence of the data ? Have I, in the act of classifying, 
introduced any new element, in which it is possible that 
there may lurk some cause of error or uncertainty ? 

In the process of classification, two faculties, or modes of 
conscious activity, have been employed, and two only. 
One is, the faculty by which we discern likeness or unlike- 
aess between Iwo objects, i.e., comparison; the other is, 
memory. Given these two powers, a complete classifica- 
tion of the data of a man's own consciousness, bo far as 
those data have been evolved, up to the time of classifying, 



OF AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 47 

is possible : take away either, and it is not. That the 
faculty of comparison is essential, is self-evident. Memory 
also is requisite ; for, although within some very narrow 
limits comparison may be made between two simultaneous 
percepts, — e.g., when we have two objects within the same 
orbit of vision, and near enough for direct comparison, — 
yet, to have anything approaching to a system of classifi- 
cation, the great majority of the acts of comparison must 
be, either the comparison of a presentation with a remem- 
brance, or of one remembrance with another. 

Is it conceivable, then, that, for the work here in hand, 
the faculty of comparison, or that of memory, should be 
itself untrustworthy ? 

If there be any difficulty in answering this question, it 
can only arise from a doubt as to whether the objects of 
the classification should be considered as having any sort 
of objective existence as distinguished from their subjective 
existence in consciousness. 

When it is a question whether my faculties are trust- 
worthy, — as, whether my senses report the external realities 
such as they truly are, whether my memory is faithful, 
whether the reasoning faculties are reliable, — the very pro- 
posing of the question implies the existence of two distinct 
sets of facts, — things as they are, and things as they are 
thought. For it is a question about the truthfulness of a 
belief or opinion : in other words, about the relation, whe- 
ther of correspondency or otherwise, which that belief or 
opinion bears to something else. The very thing which 
we mean, when we say that a belief is true, is, that it 
corresponds with the actual fact ; which, of course, must 
be something other than the belief itself. 

Now there is a certain sense in which the data of con- 
sciousness, when compared together for the purpose of 
classification, are, in the act of comparison, treated as 



48 OF AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 

objects, having an existence other than, and which con- 
sequently may or may not correspond with, the datum 
immediately present to the mind in the act of comparison. 
This results from the fact that the comparison is carried on 
through the medium of remembrances. 

When we compare together two objects, one of which 
we see, while the other is merely recalled by memory, and 
say of them that they are alike, or that they differ in this 
or that respect, we do not mean that the two data of con- 
sciousness, the visual perception and the remembrance, are 
alike, nor yet do we bring in this difference, — that one 
is seen while the other is remembered, — as constituting a 
difference of the objects. This is a matter of fact which 
every one can test for himself. We, on the contrary, think 
of the objects which we are comparing as being, so to 
speak, mentally equidistant from ourselves. In our judg- 
ments concerning such objects, we eliminate, as a circum- 
stance that has nothing to do with the nature of the objects 
themselves, the special mode in which they may for the 
moment be related to our consciousness. In this manner 
we objectify, or mentally set apart from ourselves, the 
things between which we make a comparison : thus 
proving that we think of them as having an existence 
which is in some way independent of the special mode in 
which we may be apprehending them in this or that act 
of consciousness. 

From these general principles, we can arrive at a con- 
clusion upon the question now before us, — whether, in 
classifying the data of consciousness, it is conceivable that 
either the process of comparison, or that of recollection, 
which is requisite for this work, should be deceptive or 
untrustworthy. 

With regard to comparison, it is not easy to see how 
this can be: so. The act of comparing one datum with 



OF AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS, 49 

another appears to be purely subjective. Data of my 
consciousness which seem to me alike, are alike ; those 
which seem to me unlike, are unlike : the being and the 
seeming are, in this connexion, one and the same thing. 1 
It is not possible, then, to predicate discrepancy or un- 
truth, nor yet truth, concerning acts of comparison when 
made between data of my consciousness, regarded simply 
as such. To talk of likeness or unlikeness as it is, as 
something other than likeness or unlikeness as it seems, 
would be a mere unmeaning combination of words. 

But with regard to recollection, the case is otherwise. 
When we compare together, for the purpose of classifica- 
tion, two or more data of consciousness, we regard them, 
as has been said, as objects — subjective-objects, indeed, as 
they are styled by Hamilton, by way of contradistinction 
from objects viewed as they are apart from and externally 
to our consciousness, — still, as objects having a sort of ex- 
istence other than the mere immediate act of reminiscence 
by which they are represented to the mind at the moment 
of comparison. They are, then, objects represented 
through a medium, namely, through remembrance ; and, 
this being so, the validity of the comparison of the objects 
must be contingent upon the fidelity of the medium. 
Unless the memory be a faculty which is trustworthy, we 
can have no security that a classification of the data of 
consciousness is truthful : for such a classification pur- 
ports to be the methodized registry, not of shifting re- 
membrances, but of mental phenomena — data — which, 
though they now exist for us only in the form of objects 
remembered, were objects of a nature very different, some 
of them, from recollections. 

1 It is hardly necessary to point out that the data of consciousness are here 
spoken of in their subjective aspect only. Whether the things themselves — 
the objects— which excite in me impressions which are similar, are themselves 
similar, is a distinct question, to be considered in another place. 



50 OF AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS. 

It will be shown, as we proceed, that we have no 
guarantee for the general truthfulness of memory, except 
our belief — which we shall find to be a primary belief — 
that it is truthful, — that, speaking generally, when certain 
allowance has been made for errors arising from our posi- 
tion in the act of remembering, or for deficiencies arising 
either from forgetfulness or imperfect attention, the thing 
remembered corresponds with the remembrance itself. It 
will be shown, further, that this unexplained belief in the 
fidelity of memory is a belief of precisely the same intel- 
lectual rank and value as our belief in the existence of an 
external world. 

Supposing these propositions to be made out, — that no 
valid classification of the data of consciousness, even as 
data merely, can be made, unless we can rely upon the 
veraciousness of memory ; that our reliance upon the vera- 
ciousness of memory is the result solely of an inexplicable 
primary belief; and that another belief, equally inexpli- 
cable and primary, and entitled to precisely the same 
degree of credence, certifies to us the existence of an 
external world, directly apprehended by us in perception ; 
enough will have been done to convict of inconsistency 
those idealist, or quasi-idealist philosophies, which, whilst 
denying the existence of an external world for want of 
evidence, yet confidently frame classifications of the data 
of consciousness, and give forth those classifications as 
systems of demonstrative truth. 



51 



CHAPTEE III. 

PKESENTATIONS (EXTEBNAL). 

We have, then, these two points settled, — that the data 
of our consciousness are realities to ourselves — each man 
here speaking for himself; and that (subject to one pro- 
viso) no portion of the absolute certainty with which we 
affirm this is lost in the process of arranging these data 
under classes. That proviso is, that we accept as a postu- 
late the general veraciousness of our faculty of memory. 

Let us in the next place proceed to carry this analysis 
of the cognitions a little further. Let us, if we can, mark 
out the precise boundary lines between presentations, 
representations, and thoughts or notions. 

Presentations are either external or internal. We may 
begin with external presentations, or perceptions. 

A perception, as has been said, is the cognitive portion 
or aspect of that which takes place in any of our sensa- 
tions, — in the act of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, or 
the like. It is an aspect or portion : consequently it can 
contain nothing which is not also contained in the sensa- 
tion itself. But every sensation — unless we are greatly 
deceived — comes to us through, or under the conditions of, 
some one single sense or organ of communication with the 
not-self. That which we learn through the eye has in 
itself nothing in common with that which we learn 
through the touch. If these two distinct species of sensa- 
tion are brought to cooperate together with reference to 
any given object, so that we are able to say of that object 
that it is at the same moment perceived by us to be, e.g, 



52 PRESENTATIONS (EXTERNAL). 

red and hard, then that which brings together these two 
distinct perceptions, so that both are known to apply to 
one and the same object, must be, not a perception (per- 
cept), but something else. 1 

Similarly, if the presence of one percept shall have the 
effect of calling up the remembrance of some percept 
belonging to a different sense, and the percept and the 
remembrance shall be connected together as both belong- 
ing to the same object, these two processes — the suggestion 
of a reminiscence, and the connecting of it with the object 
perceived, must be, not perceptions, but mental acts 
generically other than percepts. 

If it be asked, on what grounds this is affirmed, there 
seems to be no better answer at hand than that it is be- 
cause we believe so. We say that we are perceiving, or 
undergoing a sensation, only when we at the same moment 
believe that, however little we can explain the manner 
how, there is a sort of contact or direct intercourse between 
our self and a something which is not our self. In the 
simple act of sensation, we are conscious of such contact : 
in the process of connecting one sensation with another, 
different in kind, or of connecting a sensation with the 
remembrance of a dissimilar sensation, we are conscious 
that no such contact takes place. 

This belief, that in sensation there is a species of contact 
between the self and the non-self, must be considered more 
fully in a subsequent chapter, when we come to discuss 
Hamilton's doctrine of Natural Realism. Let it in the 

1 If that only is a visual percept which comes through seeing, and that only 
a tactual percept which conns through touching, and if the acts of seeing and 
touching have, considered in themselves, nothing in common, it must follow 
that the apprehension of the oneness of the object Been and touched, as that 

oneneifl IS QOt seen nor jret touched, cannot be a tactual percept nor yet a 
visual percept, and, no other sense being in question, cannot he a percept at 
all, must therefore he a mode of mental apprehension different in kind from 
B percept. 



PRESENTATIONS (EXTERNAL). 53 

meantime be assumed that the criterion by which we dis- 
tinguish a percept from every other cognitive act is, the 
presence in the former, and the absence in the latter, of a 
certain inexplicable belief or consciousness that the per- 
ceiving self comes into immediate contact with a some- 
thing which is external to it ; and we shall then be led to 
the following corollaries : — 

1st. That which is only learnt by inference from a 
percept is no part of the percept itself. 

Thus when, seeing smoke, we infer the existence of fire, 
this cognition of the fire does not come to us as a percept. 

2nd. That which is only learnt by comparison of two or 
more percepts, is not itself a percept. 

For, that only is a percept which can be assigned to 
some single sense as its cause. 

For example, it is set down by Hamilton as a doubtful 
point whether from touch alone, unaided by sight, it is 
possible to obtain a knowledge of the form of any but 
perhaps very small and simple objects. " Let any one," 
he says, " try by touch to ascertain the figure of a room, 
with which he is previously unacquainted, and not alto- 
gether of the usual shape, and he will find that touch will 
afford him but slender aid ::" and to find out by feeling the 
figure of the Peak of Teneriffe, or St. Peter's at Pome, 
would, he says, be impossible (Peid, p. 133). Sight alone, 
unaided at any time by touch or the remembrance of 
touch, would be absolutely incompetent to give us a know- 
ledge of solid form. Assuming, then, that our knowledge 
of solid form comes only through touch and sight com- 
bined, this knowledge must involve as one of its causes a 
process of comparison. Consequently, on this assumption, 
our knowledge of this or that solid form can in no case be 
styled a percept. 

3rd. If an object is known to be one and the same, 



54 PRESENTATIONS (EXTERNAL). 

although we are at the same moment conscious of two 
distinct and dissimilar percepts which we refer to that 
object, our knowledge of the oneness of the object is not 
itself a percept. 

For, there is required a process or act of thought, which 
for the reasons above given is different in kind from a 
percept, to connect together the two percepts as both 
belonging to the same object. 

4th. If we ascribe a oneness to an object which we now 
perceive, and which we also remember to have perceived 
formerly, our knowledge of this oneness is not a percept. 

For, in the same manner as in the preceding case, a 
process of thought is requisite, to connect together the 
percept and the remembrance. 

5th. That which can only be known by subdivision of a 
percept, is not itself a percept. 

For, such knowledge requires as its condition an act of 
thought, distinct in kind from a percept, namely, the act 
of subdivision. 

This principle, in its terms, is inapplicable to the case 
in which an object, though in fact perceived as the portion 
of a larger object, may possibly be perceived when it has 
been divided off from that of which it previously formed a 
part. Thus, I am at this moment perceiving a sheet of 
paper : any little piece that might be torn off from it, 
though not in fact now perceived as an object by itself, 
yet would be so perceived when torn off. My knowledge 
of its existence is consequently a percept. But it is other- 
wise with the mathematical figures — the lines — length 
without breadth — which I know, but do not perceive, to 
form the outer boundaries of every stroke of ink which is 
on the page. For, I only know of their existence by 
separating, by an act of thought, the length and the 
breadth, which in every percept exist conjointly. 



55 



CHAPTEE IV. 

PBESENTATIONS (INTEENAL). 

It would be a great mistake to suppose that we have 
simply to direct our attention inwards, as it were, upon 
our own selves, in order that this self should at once exhibit 
itself to us, fully and completely, such as it is in its essence. 
If any one believes that he can do this, let him make the 
experiment. 

It will be found, on the contrary, that our knowledge 
concerning our own selves is closely analogous to our know- 
ledge concerning the external world. What the latter is 
in itself, we either are wholly ignorant of, or can only infer 
from the effects which it produces on our consciousness : 
and those effects can only be learnt by observations first 
made through the senses, and then stored up in and repro- 
duced by memory, and combined or otherwise manipulated 
by processes of thought. Thus it may be said that the 
only portion of the external world as to which we can know 
anything is that surface of it which comes into immediate 
contact with our own minds. Very much of the same 
kind, mutatis mutandis, is our knowledge concerning our 
own selves. What I am in myself, I am wholly ignorant 
of, except so far as I can draw inferences from those 
thoughts, feelings, and other manifestations of internal 
activity which may be termed acts or products of the self. 
No one of those acts or products is the self, nor is the 
aggregate of them the self : we conceive the self to be the 



56 PRESENTATIONS (INTERNAL). 

cause of them. And this latent or unknown cause can only 
be studied through observation of these its effects : which 
must be, first, by direct inward tuition, taking note of the 
acts or products one by one as they arise ; and must after- 
wards be pushed further by a series of comparisons or other 
mental processes, bringing together these intuitions by 
remembrance, and noting their resemblances and differ- 
ences and such other laws of their being as we can pene- 
trate to. 

Let us first consider the mental operation to which we 
may give the name of internal presentation, and inquire 
by what essential character it is distinguished from other 
data of consciousness. 1 

When I feel that I am affected in some particular way, 
— that I am pleased, that I am angry, that I have some 
desire, — and when I direct my attention to this subjective 
state of feeling, the cognitive ingredient in this mental 



1 Our faculty of immediately apprehending the phases or acts of our self 
bears so close an analogy to our faculty of external sensation, that it might 
fitly be termed an internal sense : the cognitive aspect of it might be termed 
internal perception, and the individual acts of thus apprehending might be 
termed internal percepts. As, however, this use of the terms sensation and 
perception might mislead, or be deemed objectionable for its novelty, it may 
be preferable to employ the phrase " internal presentation," in the absence of 
a recognized single word to denote this particular mode of consciousness. 
Hamilton employs the term "self-consciousness" in this sense; but this 
seems objectionable, as apt to mislead in two ways; first, because it is not 
the self, but the acts of the self, of which we arc conscious ; and, secondly, 
because the adoption of this term seems to encourage that which Hamilton 
himself would probably regard as the vulgar error of regarding self-conscious- 
ness as being more peculiarly and properly consciousness than is the con- 
sciousness of the not-self. The term "intuition" has also suggested itself as 

suitable for the purpose; but this term we shall require by and Bye for another 

purpose, \i/.., to denote that class of phenomena which has for its sub-divisions 

citations and representations. We shall see that all our cognitions must 

be sub-divided under intuitions and notions ; presentations and representations 

having so much in common, as contradistinguished from notions, that we shall 

need some common term to comprehend both. Palling to discover a better 
phrase, therefore, and not venturing, without absolute necessity, to coin a 
word, or to use an old word in a new sense, I content myself with the cum- 
brous expression " internal presentation." 



PRESENTATIONS (INTERNAL). 57 

act, namely, the apprehension or knowledge- taking of the 
emotion or other affection of the self, is that which is here 
termed an internal presentation. 

The affection of the self which is thus apprehended may 
be either an emotion, a volition, or a particular act of 
cognition. So long as the thing apprehended is the sub- 
jective element in the act, — i.e. the cognition in so far as it 
is an act or state of the self, — the act of taking immediate 
cognizance of it is an internal presentation. 

Much in the same way as in every act of perception I 
am conscious of somehow coming into contact with a some- 
thing external to myself, so in every internal presentation 
I am conscious of somehow coming into a mental contact 
with an inner force or activity which I term my self. Why 
or how it is that I am led to entertain this twofold belief, 
I do not at present stay to inquire. In a future chapter, 
when we come to consider that which may be termed the 
Law of Substance, this inquiry may be pursued further. 
At present, it is enough to state the existence of this belief 
as a fact. If there is any one who is not conscious of 
having this belief, he may question the fact ; and no one 
else has the right to do so. I find myself conscious of thus 
believing; and I can see abundant proof, in the very 
structure of all known languages, that this belief is held 
by, at all events, the vast majority of mankind. JNo 
exception has ever presented itself to my experience, nor 
am I aware that any such is on record. I seem to be 
warranted, therefore, in considering this belief to be 
nothing exceptional or peculiar in me. 

Again, I am sometimes conscious of exercising a faculty 
which is distinct in kind from that of internal presentation ; 
that is, I can remember former presentations. How far I 
can do this at will, or whether the rising up of these re- 
membrances is wholly involuntary, I do not here consider. 



58 PRESENTATIONS (INTERNAL). 

It is enough, to know that, among the data of my con- 
sciousness, I recognize the existence, sometimes of pre- 
sentations, sometimes of remembrances of presentations. 

Every remembrance, whether of a perception or of an 
internal presentation, is an act of a twofold nature, or 
having two ingredients which may be separated in thought 
although in fact they always exist in combination. It is 
at once a presentation and a representation. That which 
is presented is, the fact that I am remembering so and so ; 
that which is represented is, the fact that so and so formerly 
took place. It is a presentation which recals some other 
presentation. 

Now, if we confine our attention to the former of the 
two ingredients — to the presentative aspect of the remem- 
brance — we must regard it as a species of internal pre- 
sentation ; and this, whether the thing remembered be a 
percept or a state of mind. The fact of remembering is 
itself a state of our own mind, or an act of the self. But 
if, instead of thus isolating one portion of the fact of re- 
membrance, we treat that fact as a whole, we must see 
that it is not a mere internal presentation, but is a datum 
distinct in kind from every other. The remembrance, 
taken as a whole, is a mental reproduction (with certain 
specific differences, concerning which more is to be said 
hereafter) of some perception or internal presentation which 
has preceded it in time. 

Let us now proceed a step further. 

Suppose I wish to classify my internal presentations, — 
or, what is the first step towards doing so, suppose that, 
having a particular presentation, I wish to determine 
whether it is a new thing, felt by me for the first time, or 
whether it resembles any former internal presentation of 
mine, — how ;mi I to ascertain this P 

I can think of no other way of accomplishing it, except 



PRESENTATIONS (INTERNAL). 59 

by calling up remembrances of former presentations, and 
comparing the two together by an act of thought. 

I find that I am capable of this act of thought. I can 
bring two remembrances, be they of perceptions or of 
internal presentations (for in respect of this capability 
there is no difference between them), into a species of 
mental juxtaposition, and can then determine whether they 
are like or unlike one another. This mental process is 
called an act of comparison. 

Now a comparison, like a remembrance, has a twofold 
nature. It is a presentation, insomuch as, at the moment 
of making it, I am directly conscious of the act as a state 
of my mind. But it is also more than a presentation, 
inasmuch as I am at the same time mediately or indirectly 
conscious of the two objects of thought which are being 
compared ; that is to say, I know that those two objects 
formerly existed as presentations to me. In comparison, 
then, as in remembrance, I can, if I please, isolate in 
thought the presentative element, and consider it as exist- 
ing in itself ; and, thus regarded, the act of comparison is 
for me a species of presentation. But I can also, if I 
prefer it, consider the act as a whole ; and then it is some- 
thing generically different from a presentation ; for it 
necessarily carries with it two acts of remembrance, and 
something more, viz., the bringing of the two into one act 
of thought and discerning a likeness or unlikeness between 
them. 

From what has here been said concerning internal pre- 
sentations, one can readily understand how it is that such 
a presentation is not so obvious or distinctly marked a 
phenomena as is a perception. For, there is some ingre- 
dient or aspect of presentation connected with every datum 
of consciousness whatever. A pure or unmixed internal 
presentation is, when we apprehend a simple modification 



60 PRESENTATIONS (INTERNAL). 

of ourselves, such as a feeling or emotion. But there is 
also an internal presentation involved in every percept : 
since in the very act of perception we are at once conscious 
of the contact or presence of something external, and also 
of some activity of our self, i.e., of an internal presentation. 
In every representation, whether it be a remembrance or 
an act of imagination, there is indeed, as has been shown, 
something more than a presentation ; but there exists like- 
wise a presentative element : and it is the same with every 
act of comparison. When we are either perceiving, 
imagining, or thinking, we are at every moment conscious, 
or at least capable of being conscious, of a present activity 
of the self : so that either an internal presentation or the 
material so to speak of such a presentation, is present with 
us at every moment of our life. 

We can, however, always distinguish in thought between 
the presentation and the other ingredients, whenever there 
are such, of any given datum of consciousness. The ques- 
tion arises, how is it that we can do this — by what criterion 
do we distinguish it ? 

The criterion appears to be involved in the question, 
am I conscious, at any given moment, of the then present 
activity, of my self ? If I am, this consciousness, so far as 
it extends, is an internal presentation. 

The test of a percept is, whether I am at any given 
moment conscious of the then present action of the not- 
self upon the self, or of the self upon the not-self. 

That which is here termed, for both these cases, the 
"being conscious," might have been termed the "believ- 
ing." If we can trace no further, it certainly is a belief, — 
having all those marks of a primary belief which have 
been already pointed out, — that, when we arc conscious of 
experiencing (for example) sonic; emotion, we arc conscious 
at the same time of a present activity of our self, and, 



PRESENTATIONS (INTERNAL). 61 

when we are conscious of seeing or touching, we are at the 
same time conscious of a then present action of self upon 
not-self, or not-self on self. But it may be questioned 
whether this twofold conviction should not be described 
rather as a direct cognition than a belief. 

Apart from, and anterior in order of time to, any theo- 
retical notions concerning a self or a not-self, there must 
be a specific difference between the data of consciousness 
called respectively perception and internal presentation, — 
a difference of which we are always conscious ; otherwise 
we should not know, at any given moment, whether that 
which we were undergoing were a perception or an in- 
ternal presentation. It may be that this difference, like 
the difference between two colours, is an apperception so 
primitive that it cannot be expressed in any simpler form. 
Or, the case may be otherwise. 

It may perhaps not improperly be thrown out as a con- 
jecture, to be verified or overthrown at a more advanced 
stage in our enquiries, that the specific difference which 
marks off an internal presentation from every other kind 
of datum of consciousness, is, its being accompanied by 
that peculiar nervous susceptibility to which we give the 
name of pleasure or pain. It is certain that this suscepti- 
bility is annexed to the phenomena of time present, and 
not either to those of time past or time future. The 
remembrance or the anticipation of pain may indeed carry 
with it something painful ; but this is probably only in the 
same degree as the act of remembrance, or of anticipation, 
is a presentative act. The purely cognitional portion of 
the remembrance or anticipation has no feeling annexed to 
it. Again, to a great extent pleasure and pain may be 
transformed, when the objects which have excited them 
have ceased to be present. The recollection of former 
hardships may even be a source of pleasure. " Dulce est 



62 PRESENTATIONS (INTERNAL). 

olim meminisse dolores." So that, on the whole, this 
cerebral or nervous excitation, pleasure or pain, appears to 
run parallel, as to time, with the presentative portion of 
our consciousness. And it is annexed to the internal, not 
the external, portion of the consciousness ; for we are 
always conscious that, though external objects may cause 
pleasure or pain, yet it is our own pleasure or pain, — the 
pleasure or pain is something in or of our self. From 
these two propositions, that pleasure or pain always accom- 
panies and only accompanies internal presentations, it may 
be inferred that it is the existence of pleasure or pain 
which serves to mark for us the existence of internal pre- 
sentations, or the internally presentative element in the 
data of our consciousness. This however is only stated 
conjecturally, and is not perhaps a matter of any great 
importance. What is material is, that which cannot be 
doubted, that we are in fact capable of distinguishing with 
certainty between internal presentations and perceptions. 

An internal presentation, then, must be denned as that 
datum of consciousness which is believed or felt to be an 
immediate act or state of the self. 

It remains to be considered whether we can apply to 
internal presentation rules of limitation analogous to those 
which in the preceding chapter have been laid down with 
respect to perception. The several acts of mentally bring- 
ing into juxtaposition, and ascribing to the same or to 
diverse objects, two or more perceptions numerically dis- 
tinct from one another, of drawing inferences from one 
perception as to another fact which is held to be the cause 
of it, and of making comparisons or founding argument 
upon comparison, were there shown to constitute no part 
of the percepts themselves. Is there a corresponding 
truth with regard to internal presentations? 

I am conscious of being angry, and I am conscious of 



PRESENTATIONS (INTERNAL). 63 

having been pleased half an hour ago : these two data are 
internal presentations, the first pure, the secondjbrming a 
portion of a remembrance. I ascribe these two acts of 
consciousness to one and the same sentient subject or cause, 
viz., my self. Thus I connect the two in one act of 
thought, as both being states or acts of my self. Can it 
be said that this connecting act of thought is itself an 
internal presentation ? 

From what was said above, it is clear that it is an act 
which contains or carries with it an internal presentation, 
precisely to the same extent as a simple act of comparison. 
In so far as I am conscious of the connecting act of thought 
as a present state or act of my self, to that extent, and to 
that extent only, is that act an internal presentation. 

It is obvious, then, that this act of thought by which I 
connect together, as both belonging to myself, the present 
anger and the former pleasure, is not either the conscious- 
ness of the anger or the consciousness of the pleasure, but 
a third distinct mental act. It is not pure internal pre- 
sentation, as the consciousness of the anger is ; nor is it 
mere remembrance, as is the consciousness of the past plea- 
sure ; but it involves a distinct element, which may be 
termed intelligential. 

We may say, then, that that which brings together two 
internal presentations in one act of thought is a mental act, 
which is distinct (numerically different) from either of the 
two. 



64 



CHAPTEE Y. 
REPRESENTATIONS. 

By a Representation is to be understood such a datura 
of consciousness as carries with it the belief or apperception 
that it is an imitative reproduction of some presentation 
which has preceded it in time. 

The purpose of the following chapter, in continuation of 
our task of marking out the boundaries of the several 
classes of data, is to define in what manner representations 
are distinguished, on the one hand from percepts and 
internal presentations, and on the other from what Hamilton 
calls " the unpicturable notions of intelligence." 

The distinctive character of representations may be most 
plainly seen in that species of them which consists of re- 
membrances of visual percepts. From whatever cause it 
may proceed, the fact appears to be that objects of sight 
are those which can be most distinctly called up as an ideal 
image. It is perhaps not altogether from accident that the 
phrase "the mind's eye" has obtained currency, while such 
expressions as "the mind's ear" or "the mind's nose" 
only provoke a smile. We are sometimes very distinctly 
conscious of having before our mind's eye pictures of objects 
formerly seen. It seems probable that this faculty of bring- 
ing up visual images either can be greatly strengthened 
by training, or is possessed in a much higher degree by 
one man than another. In the strength of this faculty 
consists, partially at least, "the vision and the faculty 
divine 11 oi' the poet. A great portion of the pleasure with 



RE PRESENTATIONS. 



65 



which poetry is read or heard consists in the fact that, 
through association, the words used have the power of call- 
ing up visual images, more or less definite, of objects which 
either in themselves or in their combination are beautiful 
or picturesque. For this reason poetry is required by 
Bacon to be "sensuous." It would be pleasant enough, 
if the reader could be supposed to have time for such 
loitering, to bring forward some examples of the manner 
in which this painting with words takes place, from the 
presenting of a complete and highly elaborated picture to 
the arousing, by a single word, as in Dante's celebrated 
" tremolar de la marina/' a species of half-image, as it 
were a glimpse caught in passing, sufficient to throw a 
sensuous tinge over the thought, such as the poet's purpose 
or humour may require. But after all it is not from 
poetry but from common every day life that examples of 
this faculty of forming visual images should be taken. 
Although the existence of it may be obscured, to persons 
little accustomed to analyse what passes within their own 
minds, by the more careful attention which they have 
accustomed themselves to give to " realities," that is, to 
external perceptions, or to abstract and severer thoughts, 
yet it must be easy, from many familiar instances, for 
each man to satisfy himself that he possesses and is always 
using this faculty. In dreams and reveries, or when one 
thinks of old times, images more or less distinct seem to 
come before us. But what puts the matter beyond all 
dispute is the fact that we recognize people and objects, 
when we see them, as having seen them before. We meet 
an old friend, and we tell him that he looks changed. 
What do we mean by that ? Simply that we compare 
what we see before us with the image we had in our minds, 
and find such a general resemblance that we know they 
both belong to the same object, but also find certain dif- 

5 



66 REPRESENTATIONS. 

ferences. But, to enable us to make the comparison, the 
image must have been there. It may have been so far in 
the background of our memory that nothing but the actual 
sight of the person himself could have brought it up again ; 
still it exists, and comes into use when wanted. In many 
cases it would seem that the appearance of the image is so 
sudden and fleeting as to leave no trace in one's memory 
except this one of the effect it has produced, viz., that we 
have used it to identify an object which we see. 

Let us give the name of patent representations to those 
which have as it were an independent existence in our 
minds, which we call up more or less perfectly by a simple 
effort of volition, whether in the presence or absence of the 
objects they refer to ; and that of latent or obscure repre- 
sentations to those whose existence in our consciousness is 
only discovered from the effect produced by them, viz., that 
we identify objects seen as having been seen before. Latent 
representations play, it is evident, a most important part 
in the formation of a man's knowledge. It may be, and 
indeed seems highly probable, that there is no real differ- 
ence in kind between patent and latent representations, 
but merely an accidental difference arising from a habit of 
inattention to the latter. It is well known that in great 
seclusion, imprisonment, or blindness, where there is leisure 
to brood over the past, images of objects which in a busy 
life had been supposed to be wholly forgotten come out 
often with very great distinctness. Here we have an 
example of latent representations being transmuted into 
patent, with no other difference in the antecedents except 
u greater degree of attention; which seems to show that 
it i> inattention — that wise or instinctive inattention which 
will not cumber the mind with that which will be useless 
to it — which has rendered so many of our representations 
latent. 



REPRESENTATIONS. 67 

Representation is not limited to objects of vision. E very- 
presentation, whether sensible or internal, has its corres- 
ponding representation. Thus much may at least be con- 
jectured from analogy even before examining inductively 
how the case stands in fact. But we are not left entirely 
to conjecture. 

If we begin with patent representations, we find pretty 
clear proofs of the existence of such with relation to all the 
objects of sense. In some imperfect degree we can recal 
some sounds. We can perhaps remember the tones of 
some voice; that is to say, not merely remember some 
quality of the voice to which we can give a name, as, that 
it was loud or soft, sharp or grave ; for in that case it may 
be that we are remembering a notion, not an intuition ; 
but we can remember it so as in a manner to reproduce it 
to our mind if not to our ear, — we can bring it back with 
that undefined something, for which we have no name, 
that renders it different from every other voice. 

" Music, when loved voices die, 
Vibrates on the memory ; 
Odours, when sweet violets sicken, 
Live within the sense they quicken," — 

says Shelley ; and on such a subject a poet is an authority, 
since the training of the imagination belongs to his art. 1 
I do not know what power men may have to recal at will 
particular scents or savours, so as to have an impression 
of them which shall bear the same kind of relation to the 
respective sensations which images, remembered or imagined, 
of visual objects bear to the sensation of seeing. It seems, 
however, highly probable that this faculty exists and is 
capable of cultivation. "With regard to the reproduction 
of internal presentations, — of feelings and all moods of the 
self, — we need go no further than to the theatre for an 

1 The same quotation, I find, has been made by Mr. Mansel. 



68 REPRESENTATIONS. 

illustration. If an actor does anything more than counter- 
feit the outward symbols of emotion, if he really " can force 
his soul so to his own conceit" as for a moment in some 
degree to feel the emotion which he is representing, the 
fact that he can by an effort of volition bring himself into 
this condition of feeling seems to prove that he must, pre- 
viously to the exertion of this effort of volition, have an 
idea in his mind, or representation, of what that state of 
feeling is. But if so, it is the idea of something which he 
cannot define or express in words : it must be, then, — at 
any rate on the theory of Nominalism it must be, — some- 
thing other than a notion or thought. It can only be, 
then, — unless some new mode of mental apprehension is 
suggested, — a representation. Very much in the same way 
as, if one who has heard a tune is able to repeat it by ear, 
we must hold that, whether he is distinctly conscious of the 
fact or no, that man must, before he begins to repeat it, 
have in his mind a model which he works after, — that is 
to say, the representation of that particular tune, — so the 
actor or the orator, who at a predetermined point in his 
work throws himself into a particular state of feeling, must, 
consciously or no, have already in his mind some model, or 
representation, of that feeling. 

It can hardly be necessary to enlarge further upon this 
branch of the subject, either by multiplying illustrations 
or by combating objections which might possibly be raised 
to these which have been given. For, whatever difficulties 
may be made as to patent representations — and the subject 
certainly is obscure — there can be no doubt as to those 
which we have called latent. There is no presentation, 
external or internal, concerning which we arc not able to 
affirm, either that we have felt its like before, or that it is 
something new, felt for the first time. II' we ever hesitate 
about this, — if this power be not perfect in us, — we seem 



REPRESENTATIONS. 69 

to be conscious that the imperfectness can only proceed 
from our own partial forgetfulness, which we feel to be a 
sort of individual fault or deficiency. But, in the main, we 
are able, at once, and with certainty, upon experiencing 
any presentation whatever, to refer it to its proper class, — 
in other words, to throw it among a heap of remembered 
presentations to which we recognize its similarity. The 
fact that we can do this seems very simple, and yet, if 
properly considered, may be found to teach us a good 
deal. 

If we recognize one thing as being identical with, or like, 
or unlike, some other thing, it is evident that we only do 
so by, or as the result of, an act of comparison. Now com- 
parison is only possible for us between two objects which 
have some common ground, with reference to which they 
are compared. I cannot make any sort of comparison be- 
tween a sight and a sound, except by referring both to that 
which they have in common, viz., that both are objects of 
sensational perception. I cannot compare a thought with 
a thing, except with reference to that which belongs alike 
to both, viz., that both are entities, or fall within the cate- 
gory of existence. Thus in proportion as the distance be- 
tween two objects widens — as the two belong to more re- 
mote spheres of thought or existence — the number of points 
of comparison between them diminishes. Between a tulip 
and a rose there are many common grounds, and we can at 
will institute comparisons between them in reference to one 
or another of those grounds : we can compare them as 
coloured objects of vision, as objects of touch or scent, as 
flowers, as vegetables, as objects external to us, as entities. 
But a thing and a thought have between them only one 
common ground — as being entities. 

Of these common grounds between two objects compared 
together, there is always one, which is that upon which the 



70 REPRESENTATIONS. 

comparison can be the most completely made ; and that is, 
the ground upon which we cease to discern the differences 
between the objects. For example, the true common ground 
of comparison between a tulip and a rose is the class Flower. 
In the act of comparing the two with relation to this class, 
we are obliged first to cognize that each belongs to the 
class ; for which purpose it is essential that we perceive in 
each every element or momentum which goes to the 
making up of our notion of a flower. Hence, in comparing 
the two together as flowers, we are compelled to bring into 
one act of thought a greater number, so to speak, of the 
qualities of those objects than when we are simply com- 
paring them as vegetables, or as external objects, or as 
entities. 

In the comparison of two objects which belong to the 
same class, we come as much closer as the class to which 
they belong is narrower. Two roses may be compared 
more closely than a rose and a tulip ; two moss-roses than 
two roses. For, before we come to the point of discerning 
differences, we have to establish the resemblance, viz., that 
each possesses all the attributes of the class, or sub-class, 
which is common to both. And of course, as we sub-divide 
the class, we increase the number of the attributes. 

Let us now proceed to apply these principles to the 
matter in hand — the identifying or otherwise connecting of 
an object perceived with an object remembered. 

It is in our power to recognize objects perceived as being 
identical with, or like, or unlike, objects remembered. How 
evanescent and impalpable soever be that vision which 
constitutes the bodily form of the remembrance, the fact 
of its having existed for us is recorded in the effect which 
is produced, viz., that wo can identify an object perceived 
as having been perceived before. 

For this purpose, then, it is necessary that there should 



REPRESENTATIONS. 71 

have been a comparison. In addition to the perception, 
there must have been a something else — call it representa- 
tion or what one may — with which that perception has 
been compared That comparison must have been very 
close ; in other words, this something must have intimately 
resembled the percept. For, the percept together with its 
corresponding representation constitute together a class, 
from which every other percept and every other repre- 
sentation are excluded. Were it otherwise, it would not 
be possible so to connect together the percept and its re- 
presentation, as to be able to identify the percept as the 
individual object represented, and no other. If, upon see- 
ing the face of my friend, I know that it is the face of that 
individual man and no other, then it must follow that I 
possess in my mind a record or pattern of that face, which 
is stamped with every character which differences that one 
face from every other face amongst men. The face itself, 
and this pattern of it, must have attributes in common, 
which serve to distinguish the two from all other objects 
of my consciousness. I have the right, therefore, to put 
the two together in a class or sub-class composed of these 
two objects only. Thus the connection between the per- 
cept and its representation is very close indeed : and each 
of them must possess in common every attribute which 
distinguishes them, from other objects of their respective 
kinds. 

It is to be borne in mind that what is here said concern- 
ing visual percepts and their representations applies with 
equal force, mutatis mutandis, to all kinds of percepts, and 
likewise to internal presentations. 

In order, however, fully to set forth the intuitive, or 
quasi sensuous, quality of representations, it is necessary to 
consider the matter a little more closely. 

Supposing I am asked to compare, let us say, the redness 



72 REPRESENTATIONS. 

of two objects, one of which I see, and see to be red, while 
I do not see, and never have seen, the other, is there any- 
way by which I can possibly do this ? Certainly, I can do 
so through the ears in the way of comparison with some 
medium ; as, if I am told that the unseen object is as red 
as a boiled lobster, or a ripe apple. Or, in the way of 
cause or effect, if I am told that it has been steeped for 
such a length of time in such a dye, or, that an object 
which it has rubbed against has been turned to such a 
tinge. Or, more simply, I may be told that the unseen 
object is scarlet. But, in all these cases, if I have never 
seen the object itself, I must in each instance have seen 
the object with which it is compared, e.g. a boiled lobster, 
or scarlet, or the supposed tinge, otherwise the explanation 
tells me nothing. Directly or indirectly, then, I can only 
compare the colours of two objects by seeing both of them. 
There is no species of community between one sense or 
another, or between sense and reason, such that a deficiency 
of one can be made good by another. Each sense is, within 
its own range, the mind's sole and single avenue to its 
appropriate knowledge. But to see, or to have seen, serve 
the same purpose of comparison. In other words, the re- 
presentation of a visual object gives or contains a something 
which is so closely like seeing that it can take the place, 
and do the duty, of seeing, in a manner which cannot be 
done by any other sense, or any rational faculty, which we 
possess. 

These arguments appear to show that latent representa- 
tions share with presentations a peculiar, quasi-sensuous 
property, to which we may give the name of intuitiveness. 
With regard to those which we have termed patent, our 
consciousness directly, though perhaps a little indistinctly, 
informs us that the same thing holds good. Further, wo 
have given some reasons for believing that there is no real 



REPRESENTATIONS. 73 

difference in kind between patent and latent representa- 
tions. 

Some apology is perhaps needed for having dwelt at so 
much length on the proofs of a proposition which is not 
very likely to be questioned. The fact is, so much con- 
fusion has arisen, in the study of metaphysics, from the 
want of a clear comprehension of the nature and limits of 
this peculiar class of mental phenomena, representations, 
or " idea-images," as they have sometimes been termed, 
that it is worth while to expend a little labour, if by so 
doing we can form some accurate and definite opinions on 
the subject. 1 

What remains to be said concerning representations 
seems to offer little or no difficulty. 

Let us now return to patent representations. These are 
of three kinds, which may be called, respectively, complete, 
incomplete, and modified representations. A complete 
representation is one which can be traced to its origin in 
sensational or internal presentation. An incomplete re- 
presentation is one that cannot be thus traced, but exists 
in our minds we know not whence. A modified represen- 
tation is one which we know to be partially the product of 
our own fancy, which has combined into one image parts 
which never existed combinedly in presentation. 

Complete representations are remembrances. When I 



1 "What are here called "idea-images" are regarded by some philosophers 
as — except presentations — the sole objects of thought. Thus Hume begins 
his Treatise on Human Nature with these words: — " All the perceptions of 
the human mind resolve themselves into two distinct kinds, which I shall call 
impressions and ideas. The difference between these consists in the degrees 
of force and liveliness with which they strike upon the mind, and make their 
way into our thought or consciousness. . . . The one seems to be in a 
manner the reflexion of the other ; so that all the perceptions of the mind are 
double, and appear both as impressions and ideas" (pp. 11-14). Hume's 
sceptical conclusions flow directly from his assuming these two — presentations 
and representations ; or, in his language, impressions and ideas — to be the sole 
ingredients of consciousness. 



74 REPRESENTATIONS. 

call up in my mind some particular image, and am at the 
same time conscious that it represents some object which I 
definitely remember to have seen or otherwise come into 
mental contact with at such or such a time, I find here, 
fully exhibited, the complete mental process, by which 
presentation is transmuted into and followed and recorded 
by representation. 

But, if I begin to examine my stock of remembrances, I 
very quickly become conscious of the presence of a certain 
destructive element called forgetfulness. There seems to 
be a process of decay continually going on within the 
representative portion of my consciousness. This decay is 
twofold. I find a dimness gradually gathering over the 
idea-images themselves, so that, as they are more and more 
removed by lapse of time from the sensations which first 
aroused them, their own sensuous or intuitive character 
becomes less and less strongly marked. This fact has 
already been alluded to. Besides this, I find that, as 
time lapses, and forgetfulness creeps on, it becomes more 
and more difficult to trace back the line of memory which 
connects the image with its original entrance into the 
mind through sensation or internal feeling. And these 
two kinds of forgetfulness do not always work together 
with proportional force. Sometimes the image is very 
faint, while the original entrance of it into the mind is 
distinctly remembered : sometimes the image remains 
vivid, while we can scarcely if at all recal to mind how or 
when it first found its way in. 

Concerning the gradual decay of the image itself, some- 
thing more has to be said by and bye, as the manner in 
which tins takes place may be found to throw some light on 
the question how the image is formed : at present, we have 
only to deal with the decay or destruction of the channel 
which connects the image with the original presentation. 



REPRESENTATIONS. 75 

Supposing that this channel has been entirely destroyed, 
so that I cannot by any labour and strain of memory call 
to mind when or where this or that image, the existence 
of which I am conscious of, first found an entry into my 
mind, how is it possible, it may be asked, to distinguish 
such an image from a mere internal presentation ? First 
of all, it is an internal presentation ; since, as has been 
said, every representation is a presentation and something 
more, — is a presentation which recals some other former 
presentation. Here we have a presentation which does 
not in fact recal any former presentation. What right, 
then, have we to call this a representation ? It fails of 
the distinctive quality of a representation. "We say indeed 
that it once possessed that quality, but that this quality 
has dropped off from it through our forgetfulness : but 
what grounds can we have for assuming such to be the 
fact ? If we have entirely forgotten that presentation 
which we say originated this image, how can we be sure 
that the image had its origin in presentation at all ? 

This difficulty may be stated in popular language under 
the form of the following question, — Are the materials 
used in imagination exclusively derived from sensation and 
(or) past internal experience : or do men possess a literally 
" creative" imagination ? 

This is not a question to be determined a priori. We 
cannot say that it is impossible for the mind to put forth 
imaginations, just as it puts forth feelings, as a species of 
new contribution to the stock of existences, not in any 
way borrowed from the external world. For, we know 
nothing whatever concerning the powers of the mind or 
self, beyond so much as we can gather from observation of 
its actual working. 

But we have a right to bring in the " law of parsi- 
mony" as bearing upon the question. Under this law, we 



76 



REPRESENTATIONS. 



must not predicate of the self a power to create images, if 
we find as a matter of fact that the images which it puts 
forth are such as might perfectly well have been simply 
imbibed through presentation. We find as fact that some 
images have been thus imbibed ; for we can trace the 
entire process in our memory. We find as fact, also, that 
our recollections are subject to decay, sometimes partial, 
sometimes total. Nothing is more natural than that the 
image itself should survive the decay, even the complete 
decay, of the channel which through the memory has 
connected it with presentation. As a matter of fact, it 
cannot be doubted that a large portion, at any rate, of the 
images which appear before our minds are in this manner 
the product of some former presentation, thus incompletely 
retained in remembrance. This being the case, there 
seems to be a strong presumption, either that the same 
thing holds good with regard to every one of our presen- 
tations, or else, — if it be not so, but some of them are pro- 
duced by an entirely different process — that there would 
be found some distinctive difference between the two kinds. 
Supposing, therefore, that no such difference be found, it 
would seem to follow that our idea-images must all have 
one common origin, — viz., presentation whether sensuous 
or sensitive, — i.e., external or internal. 

Further, if the mind really possessed the power of creat- 
ing images for itself, it would be reasonable to suppose that 
there would be a consciousness of this power. In fact, 
however, there is rather a consciousness of impotence in 
this respect. If I am asked to imagine some face I have 
never seen, or some taste or smell I have never lasted or 
smelt, I give myself very little trouble over an endeavour 
which I know beforehand to be fruitless. 11' you will tell 
mc what face, among those I have seen, this unknown face 
is like, and in what respects the two differ, I may be ready 



REPRESENTATIONS. 77 

to attempt to frame a conception ; otherwise, I am wholly 
in the dark. This is the sort of answer any man would 
make to such a request ; and what is this, but a confession 
of utter incapacity to create images without materials given 
by nature ? 

In reality, if a man carefully examines the results of his 
own work after he has been engaged in framing idea- 
images, he finds that, however fantastic and original may 
be the combination, there is nothing in the parts of which 
it consists but what he might have derived from presenta- 
tion. No new fact or datum of sensation — no hitherto 
unexperienced feeling — ever distinctly reveals itself in 
imagining. If this be not the case, at any rate authenti- 
cated instances to the contrary are not forthcoming. 

Representation, then, appears to be simply the repro- 
duction, — with certain specific differences, which will be 
more fully considered in a future chapter, — of something 
which has been previously given in presentation. It is 
reproduction in an imitative manner : that is to say, the 
sensuous or sensitive character of the presentation is to 
some extent retained in this counterfeit of it 

This being so, it follows that each of those limitations, 
pointed out in the chapter on perception, which mark out 
the boundaries of a percept, and which in the same way 
bound internal presentations, are equally applicable to re- 
presentations. That which is simply the imitative repro- 
duction of something else can contain nothing which is not 
in its original. Hence, to constitute a pure representation, 
it is necessary that there be exhibited only the image of a 
single percept or internal presentation ; that it contain no 
matter of inference ; and that it be a whole in itself, i.e. 
something which can be apprehended without any act of 
sub-division. 

We have now, in the three chapters on external and 



78 REPRESENTATIONS. 

internal presentation and representation, gone through that 
portion of our cognitions which may be called intuitive : 
we pass on to that more impalpable region which comprises 
the purely intelligential portion, — the "unpicturable notions 
of intelligence. " 



79 



CHAPTEE VI. 

NOTIONS. 

To make up the whole of what we know, it is clear that 
there must be some other element or source of knowledge, 
besides intuitions. 

My own consciousness, with all its contents, is, as has 
been said, an unquestionable reality for me. The fact of 
its existing, subjectively to myself, is one which it is not 
within my power even to doubt. If, then, I find that a 
certain portion of these contents or data are not accounted 
for by sensation, nor by internal presentation, nor by re- 
presentation, I am bound to infer that there must be some 
other way of knowledge besides these three. 

This other way of knowledge will, upon examination, I 
believe, be found to consist in this, — that the mind has the 
power, not only to work with the pictorial materials called 
representations, but also to evolve data, which may be 
called notions, generically different from representations, 
and such as can by no possibility be exhibited to the 
imagination. 

This purely intelligential element of knowledge has not 
been wholly left out of sight by the metaphysical writers 
of this country. One portion of it — the working of a so- 
called faculty of comparison — has always been recognized. 
But the subject has been obscured, and its sphere unduly 
narrowed, by that which has been the besetting sin of 
metaphysics in all ages — an over-haste to theorize upon 



80 



NOTIONS. 



insufficient data. Catalogues of the powers or faculties of 
the mind have been framed somewhat too hastily, and then 
the love of system has tempted their authors to prune down 
the phenomena of the human mind wherever they ap- 
peared to overspread the framework thus provided for 
them. " So much the worse for the facts," if they would 
not confirm themselves to their appointed theory. It 
should never be forgotten, however, that we are wholly 
unable to take a measure, a priori, of the powers of the 
mind : the. mind itself being an unknown force, exhibited 
to us only in its effects ; and these effects should be studied 
as men of science study the phenomena of nature. The 
data of consciousness should be for us what observed facts 
are in physics, — accepted realities which we are in no way 
to distort or suppress, and from the existence of which we 
are to induce our more general laws. What we term 
powers or faculties of the mind are for us nothing more 
than such general laws as we have ourselves gathered by 
induction from the phenomena. There can be no harm in 
our throwing together a number of such generalizations, 
and calling them "a list of the thinking faculties ;" but 
then, should we afterwards light upon some act of thought, 
such as cannot be referred to any of these faculties, or to 
any combination of them, yet unquestionably exists, what 
we ought to conclude is, not that the act in question must 
be abnormal or illusory, but that our list of faculties must 
be incomplete. This rule, however, plain as it seems, has 
been very commonly neglected. 

If we have these unpicturablc notions, the fact of our 
having them must Lie nearer to our knowledge than any 
theories we might frame concerning the mode in which 
the mind may have come to have them. We should begin, 
then, with considering how the case precisely stands with 
regard to this question oi' fact — whether we have them. 



NOTIONS. 81 

That which brings into one act of thought two or more 
percepts, or other intuitions, is, not an intuition, but a 
mental act generically different from an intuition. 

For example, if I hold in my hand a billiard-ball, and 
feel that it is smooth and hard and heavy, and see that it 
is red, that which unites into one these several percepts, is, 
no one of the percepts themselves, neither the hardness nor 
the weight nor the red colour ; nor yet is it any percept 
other than these ; nor yet is it any representation of a 
percept ; nor any internal presentation or representation ; 
but it is a thought, notion, or belief, that all these percepts 
— the smoothness and hardness which I perceive through 
the touch, the weight which I perceive through resistance 
to my voluntary motion, and the redness which I perceive 
through the sight, are qualities, — in other words, belong 
to some substance or unperceived substratum. The only 
things which we perceive through the senses are the quali- 
ties : yet these perceptions invariably and as by a certain 
necessity give rise to this notion or belief in the existence 
of a something else which we do not perceive. And the 
nature of this something else — what it is that we even 
mean by it — appears in a singular manner to elude our 
imagination, so that we can by no possibility figure or pre- 
sent to ourselves the meaning of the belief which we yet 
cannot help entertaining. Here, then, we have an example 
of a notion wholly unpicturable. 

Those metaphysicians who would reduce all thought to 
" transformed sensation," pressed no doubt with the diffi- 
culty of thus dealing with our notion of substance, have 
laboured to explain away, if not utterly got rid of, the 
notion itself. Thus James Mill boldly denies that we have 
any such notions. " The qualities," he says, " are the 
substance." A billiard ball, on this theory, is nothing 
more than a certain definite combination of redness, hard- 



82 NOTIONS. 

ness, weight, and smoothness. John Stewart Mill is of 
opinion that what we call substance is merely a feeling 
produced in our minds by the constant association of cer- 
tain " ideas," i.e., the images of the so-called attributes. 
Mansel, from a very different point of view, endeavours in 
a manner of his own to combat the ordinarily received 
doctrine of substance and attribute. The arguments, by 
which these three distinguished writers support their re- 
spective views, must be considered in a future chapter. 

In the meantime, assuming at any rate the subjective 
existence in our minds of a belief that colours, form, hard- 
ness, savour, and the like, are not isolated self-existent 
phenomena, floating somehow in the air, but are qualities 
of objects, we find that we have a belief in something 
which we cannot picture to our imagination. 

The fall purport of this fact will be further considered 
in the chapter on substance. 

Another way in which we can bring two or perhaps 
more intuitions into one act of thought, is, by comparison. 
Comparison is that act of mind by which we take cogni- 
zance of the likeness or unlikeness of two objects. It will 
be found upon examination that it is an act, the results of 
which are absolutely unpicturablc to our imagination. 

Our consciousness consists of two elements or species, 
which arc distinguished from one another by a marked 
(Inference. It has a positive and a differential element. 
I am conscious, for example, of the colour red. This fact 
is a positive something in itself. Similarly, 1 am con- 
scious of the colour blue. But, the moment I bring these 
two positive acts of consciousness into a species of mental 
juxtaposition, — that I connect them together in thought, 
— there is instantly evolved a third datum of consciousness, 
generically distinct from the other two, viz., I am con- 
scious of a difference between red and blue. It has been 



NOTIONS. 83 

attempted to reduce all consciousness to a knowledge of 
differences ; but such an attempt does violence to the plain 
dictates of experience. Everybody must feel that he 
knows what red is by itself — that he has a positive intui- 
tive perception of this ; and that he also knows that red is 
different from blue : and that these facts are two distinct 
facts. The knowledge of the difference is not, indeed, 
intuitive ; for it cannot be reproduced by any act of imagi- 
nation ; it does not, as it were, reside pictorially in the 
mind, so as to be called up and surveyed by itself. Since 
the knowledge of the difference between red and blue is a 
thing different from the knowledge of red, and from the 
knowledge of blue, then, if this difference can be imagined, 
it must be possible to imagine it apart from any image of 
either of the two colours. But a very simple experiment upon 
himself will satisfy any one that, to imagine the difference 
between red and blue, without first imagining the colours 
themselves, is simply impossible. It has been already shown, 
however, that it is the property of an intuition to consti- 
tute, or be capable of constituting, a whole by itself. 1 

If, instead of two different colours, two colours which 
are perfectly alike are presented to us, whether at different 
times or severed in space, the juncture of the two in one 
act of thought evolves a datum which is generically like 
the knowledge of a difference, viz., a knowledge of simi- 
larity. On the logical principle that "the knowledge of 
opposites is one" we are bound to recognize that the 
discerning of difference and the discerning of similarity 
are acts identical as to their own nature, and differing 
only with reference to the material they are exerted on. 

Comparison, then, is another mental act, generically 
differing from intuition, in that its results cannot be de- 
picted by imagination. 

1 For the further development of this principle, see Part ii., chap. vi. 



84 NOTIONS. 

Negatives, again, are unimaginable. If we consider what 
that is which all acts of comparison have in common, we 
find it to be a notion or belief that, of the two objects com- 
pared, one has or is something which the other has or is not. 
When we note the difference between red and bine, we 
note also by implication that there is in or about red a 
something which does not exist with reference to blue. 
Again, when there is an intermission in the exercise of 
any sense, as when between sounds there comes a silence, 
or between sights a darkness, so that the attention remains 
for awhile unexercised, since this does not take place with- 
out our knowing it, there must, it seems, be some faculty 
by which we can acquire knowledge of a negative. 

It would be idle to go about to prove that we can think 
a negative, and that when we have done so, we have not 
exhibited an impotency of the mind, but exerted a power. 
When we have learnt that a given object has not this or 
that property, we cannot but suppose that we have learnt 
something concerning the object, — we are so much nearer 
to a knowledge of it than we were before. Knowledge of 
the negative is by no means to be confounded with the 
negation of knowledge. 

But when we endeavour to reproduce in an imaginative 
or quasi-pictorial fashion any mere negative, we find our- 
selves baffled. We cannot figure to ourselves darkness, 
except as a black colour, which is positive ; nor silence, 
unless we bring in the aid of contrast, by first imagining 
Bounds ; nor shapelessness ; nor anything indefinite, so far 
as it is indefinite. Intuition, whether external or internal, 
presentative or representative, is strictly limited to the 
positive and the concrete. 

Now, if negatives can be thought but not imagined, it is 
clear that a very Large portion of the process of reasoning 
must consist of a process which is unimaginable. With- 



NOTIONS. 85 

out negatives, the leading formulse of logic, the law of con- 
tradiction and the law of excluded middle, could not exist. 
We could not say, " a thing cannot both be and not be," — 
" a thing either is or is not," unless we could assert the 
still more comprehensive proposition — " every affirma- 
tive object of thought carries with it in thought a corres- 
ponding negative." The positive, its negative, and the 
relation between the two, together constitute — to use the 
expression of M. Cousin — the unit of thought, the minimum 
cogitable. 

That we cannot imagine the negative, may indeed be 
rightly termed a mark of impotency to imagine, but 
by no means of impotency to think it; unless it be that 
the absence of the pictorial element shall have thrown any 
uncertainty or obscurity over our thinking. This, how- 
ever, does not appear to be the case. Considered simply 
as objects of cognition or belief, there is no difference in 
degree of clearness, accuracy, or certain conviction, between 
an affirmative and its corresponding negative. Given a, as 
a datum thought, not-a, as an object of thought, is equally 
given : being given in and by the same act of thought : 
that which constitutes the boundary-line of a, constituting 
ipso facto the boundary-line of not-«. For example, the 
very same process of thought by which I learn what is 
honesty serves to teach me what is dishonesty ; and it is 
impossible for me to be more or less perfect in the first 
lesson than in the second. Though the positive may in 
some cases be painted on the imagination, whilst the nega- 
tive is in the dark, yet both are equally valid as acts of 
thought. 

It would be easy to multiply illustrations of the truth 
that the sphere of thought is more extensive than that of 
intuition. We shall in a future chapter have to consider 
whether space and time can be adequately pictured in 



OD NOTIONS. 

imagination, — pictured, that is, so that the object imagined 
shall completely coincide in extent with the object thought. 
We think of space as that which the whole material uni- 
verse occupies without filling : we can only imagine space, 
according to Hamilton, as a vast sphere of some grey or 
neutral colour. Is this image a full and adequate expres- 
sion of this thought ? A similar question arises with re- 
gard to time. Time and space have been termed the pure 
forms of intuition. In considering the pure forms of 
thought, we shall repeatedly have occasion to notice that 
we are dealing with matters that can be thought but not 
imagined. 

All that is requisite, however, in this chapter, is to ex- 
hibit some few examples of unpicturable thought, so that 
we may be able to form a tolerably adequate notion of the 
distinction between this mode of mental activity and that 
of intuition. I will only, therefore, add one or two more 
illustrations ; beginning with that which may be drawn 
from " general notions." 

If we have a notion corresponding to a general class- 
name, as man, dog, or the like, it is clear that this is a 
notion which cannot be represented intuitively, i.e. ima- 
gined. Imagination, as has been seen, is only of the 
singular, definite, and concrete : the object of visual 
imagination must have a given colour and size ; and 
similarly the imagination which answers to each sense can 
only deal with objects which exhibit single, concrete, imita- 
tions of its own proper acts of sensation. But a dog, which 
may bo either black or brown, smooth or shaggy, of any 
size, and in many ways with contradictory attributes, — 

and such is the cla>s dog here spoken of, — cannot be ade- 
quately imagined, for it is wanting in all the requisites of 
an image. 

Similarly, individual actions cannot be imagined. If we 



NOTIONS. 87 

consider how much is contained in the notion expressed by 
these words, " John is running," we shall find in it ingre- 
dients which, as contradictory, cannot possibly be exhibited 
in a single act of imagination. Before I can see that John 
is running, I must have seen John in at least two places, 
i.e. have had two visual images of John, in some respects 
different from one another, and I must also have connected 
these two images in one act of thought, under the law of 
substance, as both belonging to the same object. Every 
action which involves motion or change, in like manner 
involves at least two images, and likewise a certain notion 
of a connexion between the two. But, if I can imagine 
only the concrete and singular, it is plain that I cannot 
grasp these three elements in a single act of imagination. 
But I can think of motion, or of change, or of action in 
general, by a single act of thought. This act therefore 
must be something differing in kind from an act of imagi- 
nation. 

We may go a step further. It will be found upon 
examination that not only individual actions, but indivi- 
dual objects, if thought of by a single act of mind, are 
thought of in a manner which cannot be represented to 
the imagination. Take, for example, the chair I see before 
me at this moment. I think of it as having one uniform 
colour, and four legs of equal length. But I do not see it 
so : I see a play of light and shade over the surface, i.e. 
several different colours, and I see legs of unequal length. 
And this is so, let me shift my position as I may. I can 
imagine my chair such as I see it, but I cannot possibly 
imagine it such as I think it. No effort of imagination 
can make those legs look equal. Again, I have seen, in 
the process of shifting my position for the purpose, and I 
can remember, some half dozen visual images, no one of 
which was precisely like the other : I believe or think, 



83 NOTIONS. 

however, that all those images belonged to one and the 
same object— that individual chair. But this part of my 
notion I can by no effort of mind image forth to myself. 
If I try to form one image which shall adequately repre- 
sent all that I think concerning my chair, I find it im- 
practicable. 

This difficulty concerning an individual object is pre- 
cisely the same in kind as that which has just been pointed 
out concerning general notions. As I cannot imagine the 
class "dog," because my notion of the class includes con- 
tradictory attributes, so I cannot imagine the individual 
chair, — cannot, that is, adequately image it, so that the 
image shall be coextensive with the notion, — because my 
notion of it contains within itself contradictory attributes. 
By " contradictory attributes," is here in both these cases 
to be understood, attributes which are either too many or 
too few to be exhibited conjointly in one and the same 
image. For example, my notion of a dog may be regarded 
either as embracing every possible canine colour, and then 
the colours are incompatible with unity of image, or as 
eliminating colour entirely, as not an essential part of it, 
and then there can be no visual image for want of colour. 
So, my notion of my chair may be regarded either as em- 
bracing all the six variations of relative size in the legs 
which were contained in my six observations, — in which 
case it is impossible to combine all six into one image ; or 
it may exclude the comparative length of legs as no essen- 
tial parts of the image, and then there is wanting some 
necessary ingredient of an image. 

General notions, then, notions of individual actions, and 
notions of individual objects, cannot be adequately pictured 
in imagination. Either, consequently, there are no such 
things as these notions, or there must be some mode of 
mental apprehension different from imagining. 



NOTIONS. 89 

Let us consider whether the difficulty here stated is got 
rid of by the theory of nominalism. 

The argument of the Nominalists may be stated as 
follows :— 

How can the mind — it is asked — frame and use general 
notions ? Here are two questions, which should be kept 
distinct : how are such notions first put together, and, 
when they have once been formed, what takes place when 
such a notion is upon occasion called up again for use ? 

A general notion is first formed, say the Nominalists, by 
taking some particular image and using it is as a sort of 
type : comparing with it a number of other images, and 
attaching to it in thought those which in the main re- 
semble, severing off those which in the main are dissimilar 
to, this standard or pattern specimen. In the objects 
which are thus attached together as resembling one an- 
other, there exist indeed differences, but these are recog- 
nized by the mind as being unimportant, in comparison 
with the similarities. 

It is here to be noted that, when for this purpose we 
speak of differences as being unimportant, this is always to 
be understood, with reference to the object which the 
classifier, or the classifying mind, is supposed to have 
in view. There are various modes of classifying, — e.g., 
the popular, which distributes objects according to their 
broad and obvious similarities, and the scientific, which 
perhaps, as in the Linngean system of botanic classification, 
selects for its test of resemblance some one feature alone. 
But herein all the modes are alike, that objects are classi- 
fied by confining one's attention to the question of simi- 
larity or dissimilarity with reference to some qualities 
which for the purpose are considered as important, and 
disregarding others which for the purpose are considered 
as unimportant. 



90 NOTIONS. 

By multiplied acts of comparison, thus made, between 
image and image, it comes to pass — still it is the Nomi- 
nalist who speaks — that there are thrown together great 
heaps of images which are considered as being alike. 
These are as it were ticketted and labelled by the mind, 
being stamped with one common name. The name is the 
symbol of their bond of union. From thenceforth, if ever 
these images are thought of Avith reference to their oneness 
in the system of classification, it is the name, and that 
only, which is thought of. Class-names thus constitute a 
species of mental shorthand, or algebraic notation. 

The doctrine of the Nominalists has been stated with 
extreme perspicuity and much fulness by Dugald Stewart 
(Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, Book 
i. chap. iv. § 2) ; and, with the modifications and cautions 
which Stewart has provided, or which may be gathered 
from some of the concessions which he makes in answering 
Eeid, it seems difficult absolutely to dissent from his 
doctrine. 

" It is evident," says Stewart, " that, with respect to 
individuals of the same genus, there are two classes of 
truths ; the one, particular truths relating to each indi- 
vidual apart, and deduced from a consideration of its pecu- 
liar and distinguishing properties ; the other, general 
truths deduced from a consideration of their common 
qualities, and equally applicable to all of them. Such 
tint lis may be conveniently expressed by means of general 
terms, so as to form propositions, comprehending under 
them ;is many particular truths as there are individuals 
comprehended under the general terms. It is further 
evident, that there are two ways in which such general 
truths may be obtained; either by fixing the attention on 
one individual, in such a manner that our reasoning may 
involve no circumstances but those which are common to 



NOTIONS. 91 

the whole genus, or (laying aside entirely the considera- 
tion of things) by means of the general terms with which 
language supplies us. In either of these cases, our inves- 
tigations must necessarily lead us to general conclusions. 
In the first case, our attention being limited to those 
circumstances in which the subject of our reasoning re- 
sembles all other individuals of the same genus, whatever 
we demonstrate with respect to this subject must be true 
of every other to which the same attributes belong. In 
the second case, the subject of our reasoning being ex- 
pressed by a generic word, which applies in common to 
a number of individuals, the conclusion we form must be 
as extensive in its application, as the name of the subject 
is in its meaning. The former process is analogous to the 
practice of geometers, who, in their most general reason- 
ings, direct the attention to a particular diagram ; the 
latter to that of algebraists, who carry on their investiga- 
tions by means of symbols" (Stewart's Works, Ed. Hamil- 
ton, vol. ii., pp. 173, 174). 

According to Stewart, then, we first generalize, — throw- 
ing our particular observations into classes by taking note 
of their resemblances ; and, having done so, we then use 
our generalizations upon occasion in one or other of two 
ways, — either by singling out some individual and using 
it as the type of its class, or else by using a name which 
serves as a symbol of or substitute for the notion of the 
class. 

Sir "W. Hamilton, a Nominalist as Stewart is, expresses 
himself, with greater vigour of style, but in substance 
almost identically to the same effect. 

"We cannot represent to ourselves," he says, "the 
class man by any equivalent notion or idea. All that we 
can do is to call up some individual image, and consider it 
as representing, though inadequately representing, the 



92 NOTIONS. 

generality. This we can easily do ; for as we can call into 
imagination any individual, so we can make that indi- 
vidual image stand for any or for every other which it 
resembles, in those essential points which constitute the 
identity of the class" (lb. p. 297). 

" We compare objects ; we find them similar in certain 
respects, that is, in certain respects they affect us in the 
same manner ; we consider the qualities in them, which 
thus affect us in the same manner, as the same ; and to 
this common quality we give a name ; and as we can pre- 
dicate this name of all and each of the resembling objects, 
it constitutes them into a class" (lb. p. 313). 

To the doctrine of the Nominalists, Dr. Reid had 
objected that universals, though they cannot be imagined, 
can be distinctly conceived (thought). "When Mr. Pope 
says ' The proper study of mankind is man/ I conceive his 
meaning distinctly, although I neither imagine a black or 
a white, a crooked or a straight man." To which Stewart 
replies that " When we speak of conceiving or under- 
standing a general proposition, we mean nothing more 
than that we have a conviction (founded on our previous 
use of the words in which it is expressed), that we have it 
in our power, at pleasure, to substitute, instead of the 
general terms, some one of the individuals comprehended 
under them" (Elem., chap, iv., § 3, Works ii. 192). The 
whole controversy between Nominalism and Conceptualism 
appears to be summed up in these two sentences. 

Into tli is controversy it is not at present necessary to 
enter. It will be sufficient if it can be shown that the 
theory of (ho Nominalists (for on that of the Conceptualists 
no question arises) obliges those who hold it to acknow- 
ledge the existence of a mode of menial activity purely 
intelligential, — thai is to Bay, generically different from, 
and incapable of being exhibited as, intuition whether pre- 



NOTIONS. 93 

sentative or representative : — in other words, that we can 
think that which we cannot imagine. 

In the first place, then, the formation of classes, and 
with it that of class-names, is allowed by the Nominalists 
to be the result of a series of comparisons made between 
different objects, so as to note their similarities and dif- 
ferences. But a comparison involves the bringing together 
into one act of thought of two distinct intuitions ; an act 
which, as has been seen, is not itself an act of intuition. 
It involves the noting of likeness and of difference ; but 
this noting, as has also been seen, is non -intuitive. 
Further, it involves a selection from among the similarities 
or differences, so as to ascertain which of them may, with 
reference to the purpose in hand, be disregarded as being 
unimportant. This requires that each similarity or differ- 
ence shall be considered with relation to the purpose in 
hand : and this is itself a fresh process of comparison, and 
one of a very abstract kind. For, the purpose in hand, 
viz., classification, being one and the same, at all events 
when it is a question of the classification of two given 
objects relatively to each other, while the several simi- 
larities or differences which are to be thus considered are 
many and diverse, it is clear that the comparison between 
the purpose and the similarities or differences cannot be 
very close : on the principle, already pointed out, that, in 
comparison, extension and intension are always in an 
inverse ratio to one another. The one thing which has 
something in common with many diverse things can at all 
events have nothing in common with those qualities in 
which the things differ from one another : consequently, 
the more those differences are multiplied, the less commu- 
nity can there be between the objects and their common 
standard of comparison. In truth, the relation between 
the purpose of a classification and the qualities of the 



94 NOTIONS. 

things classified appears to be one of those relations which, 
according to Hamilton, cannot be pictured to the imagina- 
tion. 

Thus in the first stage of the process — the forming of 
classes — something non-intuitive is brought in. Nor is 
this less the case when, having formed our classes, and 
labelled them with class-names, we come to examine whe- 
ther this or that individual object falls within this or that 
class. To take one of the simplest cases : — I see a horse, 
and wish to determine whether or no it belongs to the class 
quadruped. A quadruped, I know, is an animal that has 
four feet. I can see four hoofs : the form of the hoof, and 
such sensible qualities as I can apprehend by touch or 
otherwise, are intuitions. The counting four is not in- 
tuition, for it requires a bringing together into one act of 
thought of several intuitions. And it is not intuition 
which informs me whether a hoof is a foot. That propert}^ 
in virtue of the possession of which this or that thing is 
constituted a foot, must be something which is common to 
the human foot, to the lion's paw, to the claws of a bird, 
and many other very dissimilar objects. This common 
property, therefore, must be first extracted, as it were, 
from all these objects, and the extract thus obtained must 
be compared with the horse's hoof. This process of extrac- 
tion and subsequent comparison must be the same in kind, 
when the result admits of no doubt, e.g. in the case of a 
horse's hoof, as in those difficult cases which have divided 
the opinions of men of science, e.g. whether a monkey's 
fore-paw is a foot or no. In both slops of the process there 
• nething non-intuitive. In extracting the common 
property of many objects of intuition, there is needed a 
serw a of acts of comparison, — at every stage of which there 
must be a bringing together of two (or more) several 
intuitions into a .single act of thought. The same thing 



NOTIONS. 95 

takes place in comparing the common property with the 
individual object whose right to a place in the class is under 
question. But it has been already shown that when two 
intuitions, whether of two different senses or modes, or of 
the same sense and mode acting consecutively, are thus 
brought into one act or unit of thought, that which brings 
them into one cannot itself be an intuition. This extracting 
of the common property of a class has here been spoken of 
as something distinct from the original forming of the 
class : it would perhaps be more accurate to say that it is 
by the discerning of the common property, and the adopt- 
ing of it as the standard of classification, that a class first 
comes to be formed. But, however this may be, the argu- 
ment which has here been put forward remains equally 
valid. 

Nominalism, then, it appears, does not enable us to dis- 
pense with the non-intuitive element of consciousness. 
Nominalists or no, we must still hold that we can think 
that which we cannot represent to ourselves in imagina- 
tion. This truth is most explicitly acknowledged by Sir 
William Hamilton, however little it may cohere with his 
celebrated theory of " the Unconditioned." 

" A relation," says Hamilton, " cannot be represented in 
imagination. The two terms, the two relative objects, can 
be severally imaged in the sensible phantasy, but not the 
relation itself. This is the object of the Comparative 
Faculty, or of Intelligence Proper. To objects so different 
as the images of sense and the unpicturable notions of in- 
telligence, different names ought to be given : and accord- 
ingly this has been done wherever a philosophical nomen- 
clature of the slightest pretensions to perfection has been 
formed. In the German language, which is now the richest 
in metaphysical expressions of any living tongue, the two 
kinds of objects are carefully distinguished. In our Ian- 



96 NOTIONS. 

guage, on the contrary, the terms idea, conception, notion, 
are used almost as convertible for either ; and the vague- 
ness and confusion which is thus produced, even within the 
narrow sphere of speculation to which the want of the dis- 
tinction also confines us, can be best appreciated by those 
who are conversant with the philosophy of the different 
countries" (Lectures, Met. vol. ii. p. 312, 313). 

It appears, then, that, besides intuition, external or in- 
ternal, presentative or representative, there is some other 
kind of mental action which co-operates with intuition in 
furnishing matter of consciousness. This faculty or mode 
of activity has up to this point been described by negatives 
only. "We can form no guess as to its nature from con- 
sidering a priori the nature of the mind or self which puts 
forth this power ; since the nature of the mind is inscrut- 
able to us, save only so far as it reveals itself to us in 
processes of action, — sensation, feeling, imagination, and 
thought, being supposed to be modes of activity on the 
part of a force or being which, except in these modes, is 
absolutely impalpable. Considered d posteriori, we have as 
yet only learnt concerning thought that it is non-intuitive, 
— that herein is its distinctive difference from the repre- 
sentative faculty or imagination. 

Whether we are to regard human knowledge after the 
analogy of a piece of mosaic work, of which intuitions are 
the coloured stones, and notions the cement which holds 
them in their places ; or whether we should be nearer the 
truth in describing our notions, more particularly our 
notions of objects, as receptacles or pigeon holes into which 
our intuitions are stowed away as they come, each under 
its proper bead ; is a question, not perhaps entirely of pure 
curiosity, which must for the present be Lefil undetermined. 
Some light may perhaps be thrown upon it in the course 
of the following chapters. 



97 



PART II. 



CHAPTEE I. 

DIVISION OE THE SUBJECT. 

In the Introduction to this book it was shown that the 
fabric of human knowledge, opinion, and conviction, such 
as it actually exists, can only be accounted for by the 
supposition that there are in the human mind, latent, until 
aroused by some stimulus from without, certain beliefs 
which the mind is in a manner compelled by the very 
constitution of its nature to entertain. It was seen that, 
if the existence of such primary beliefs were denied, a 
scepticism so thorough -going as to appear to our own sober 
selves, in unmetaphysical hours, merely ludicrous, must be 
the only legitimate conclusion. We saw, further, that 
precisely the same reductio ad absurdum followed the 
attempt at once to acknowledge the existence, and by a 
supposition of illusoriness to deny the objective validity, 
of such beliefs. Having thus established that primary 
beliefs exist, and that they must be accepted by us as 
sufficient evidence that the things believed are true, I 
proceeded to point out the criteria by which these primary 
beliefs are to be distinguished from other beliefs or opin- 
ions, which, as being derivative and contingent, may be 
liable to error. 

In the First Part — laying aside, for the time, the whole 

7 



98 



DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 



subject of primary beliefs — we were occupied with the task 
of marking out the main divisions of the human conscious- 
ness. It was necessary to dwell at some length on this, in 
order perfectly to emancipate ourselves from the opinion 
so firmly rooted in modern metaphysics, that all mental 
action is only transformed sensation or reflection. Even 
Hamilton and Mansel, it appears, have not completely 
shaken off the trammels of this doctrine. The opinion, 
that " impressions and ideas," in other words presentations 
and their imitative representations, constitute the entire 
stock of our mental possessions, has been impressed upon 
us by so many writers, from Locke downwards, with so 
great a variety of illustration, as at length to have rivetted 
itself upon the imagination of philosophers, till it has be- 
come as difficult to shake off as our childish terrors about 
goblins and spectres. That there likewise exists a third 
mode of apprehension, purely intelligential, having no 
hold either on the senses or the imagination, is a doctrine 
which has still, perhaps, to fight its way to recogni- 
tion. It was necessary, therefore, at the risk of being 
tedious, to make this threefold subdivision as clear as 
possible. 

It now remains for us, in this Second Part, to bring the 
two topics, which have been treated separately in the In- 
troduction and in the First Part, into combination one with 
another. We are to study in detail the influence of pri- 
mary beliefs, as affecting each of the main divisions of the 
human consciousness. 

The method in which this is to be done must be uniform 
throughout. It will be necessary first to enquire what is 
in fact the established general belief of mankind upon each 
of the subjects in question. The next step will be to 
ascertain what contribution towards such a belief has, or 
can have, been made by the senses or the internal sense. 



DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 99 

The residuum must be attributed either to representation 
or to thought. Now representation, as has been seen, 
being the mere imitative counterpart of presentation, can 
of itself furnish no original matter of knowledge. Our 
residuum, therefore, must be traceable to some act of pure 
thought. Of such acts, those which are derivative must 
at last be traced back to some that are simple and primary. 
Thus we shall finally be led to primary acts of thought ; 
and these, so far as they connect themselves with our 
knowledge, are primary beliefs. 

By this process, systematically worked out, we may 
expect at length to obtain a catalogue of the primary 
beliefs of the human mind. When this task shall have 
been accomplished, there will still remain that of collating 
these beliefs one with another, and so coming to the final 
question of the critical philosophy, viz. — Are our primary 
beliefs, considered as a body, self- consistent ? upon the 
answer to which question it depends whether a sceptical or 
a positive philosophy be the true one. 

It can hardly be necessary here to point out that the 
" established general beliefs of mankind" above spoken of 
must be such as will bear the tests pointed out in the third 
chapter of the Introduction, and more especially those of 
universality and necessity. Nothing can be a belief of 
man as man, unless it be believed by all men : not indeed 
necessarily in the form of an articulate proposition, nor 
necessarily at every age of a man's life or at every stage 
in the intellectual and moral development of a community. 
All knowledge and all belief is at first latent in each and 
all men ; the capacity or aptitude for believing after this 
or that pre-ordained form is brought forth into the light 
of consciousness by and with the occasion for its exercise ; 
which occasion may and often does come late in the life 
of a man or the history of a community. Until the belief 



100 DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 

has been evolved, that man or that community offers a 
seeming but illusoiy disproof of its universality. The 
universality which we are to seek is not, then, an em- 
pirical one. We are not simply to enquire how stands 
the matter of fact ; do we find that all men at all times 
believe thus or thus ? but we must place the man fairly 
before the problem ; we must bring him to the point of 
view at which he is compelled to interrogate his conscious- 
ness as to whether he instinctively believes thus or thus, 
or the contrary, or whether he is unconscious of any pro- 
pensity to give a preference to either of the two con- 
flicting opinions. The process, in short, by which we are 
to determine whether a belief is universal, is one not of 
bare observation but of experiment. This process of ex- 
periment is one which, to a certain extent, requires the 
conjoint working of teacher and pupil — of writer and 
reader ; the former must interrogate himself, and declare 
the result ; the latter also must interrogate himself, and 
judge how far the result he experiences corresponds with 
that which has been announced to him. It is this ne- 
cessity for a conjoint activity on the part of the reader, 
which principally makes the study of metaphysics difficult, 
and at once irksome to the many, and fascinating to the 
few who have an affinity for this peculiar kind of in- 
tellectual labour. 

Thus much concerning universality. Necessity, as ap- 
plied to a belief, is distinguished from universality by 
this — that its contrary is inconceivable. We shall have 
to consider, in a future chapter, whether the distinction 
between necessity and mere contingent universality, as 
applied bo our cognitions, does or does not correspond with 
the distinction expressed in popular language, when we 

Bay that we know some things and bc/iccc others. At 
present, therefore, I will say no more on this head, but 



DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 



101 



will proceed at once to the distribution of the subject of 
this Second Part. 

It will be convenient, I think, to begin this part with 
an attempt to define, as accurately as may be, what is the 
meaning of this term Belief ; thus to show what are the 
characteristic marks by which it is distinguished from 
other mental phenomena. We shall then be ready with 
more confidence to go forward in the task before us, viz., to 
examine some of the more important beliefs connected, 
first, with sensation, then with internal presentation, after- 
wards with the several kinds of representations, whether of 
memory or of the imagination, and finally with pure 
reason. 

Beginning with presentations, then, we shall in the first 
place examine the questions connected with that belief, by 
which we distribute our presentations under the twofold 
subdivision of self and not- self. The problem is here pre- 
sented to us, to discover by what means it comes to pass 
that, whereas the sole objects of which we are conscious 
are individual, isolated, phenomena, we yet universally 
believe in the existence, and in the actual contact, of two 
spheres or modes of being, to which we give the names, 
respectively, of mind or self, and matter or not-self. 
Under this head we shall have to examine Sir "William 
Hamilton's doctrine of Natural Realism, and contrast it 
with the representative theories of modern metaphysicians, 
his predecessors. 

In dealing with this question, it will be found impossible 
to keep outward presentation, or perception, entirely apart 
from internal presentation. The question is two-fold, but 
apparently must be examined in one both as regards 
the self and the not-self. Our belief that the self is one — 
which implies that it is something numerically different 
from the acts of the self, from that aggregate of thoughts 



102 DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 

and feelings which make up the sum of what we are con- 
scious of, — can be shown to be one and the same belief by 
which we hold that the not-self or external universe has 
an existence distinct from, and independent of, our percep- 
tions. This belief, and the law or truth corresponding 
to it, is the belief or law of substance. 

It appears inevitable that we should in the next place 
treat of Space and Time. These, according to Kant, are 
the aesthetic forms of external and internal presentation 
respectively : according to Hume and Brown, and even, as 
will appear in its proper place, according to Hamilton and 
Mansel, are merely finite and phenomenal percepts or in- 
ternal presentations, obtained by a process of mental 
abstraction. This controversy, and its solution by an 
appeal to primary beliefs, though it may lead us over 
ground somewhat trite, is of too much importance to be 
omitted. 

. The next topic to be considered will be that of the forms 
of pure thought. According to what primary laws, we 
shall have to ask, does that conjunction of intuitions pro- 
ceed, by which we pass from the quasi- sensuous realm of 
memory and fancy to the lumen siccum of pure reason ; and 
what primary beliefs, if any, are involved in the working of 
those laws ? These questions will naturally lead us to an 
examination of Kant's categories of pure reason. And at 
this point it will be necessary to take some notice of 
Hamilton's celebrated Philosophy of the Unconditioned. 

Of these forms of thought, there is one which, for its 
importance, deserves to be isolated from the others, and 
treated at greater length separately. This is, the law or 
primary belief of causation. An examination of some of 
the questions connected with this subject will form the 
concluding chapter of the present part. 

It will be remarked that, although the subdivision here 



DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. 103 

made does not precisely tally with that of the main 
branches of consciousness; which would hardly be prac- 
ticable, since the topics to be discussed run into one 
another in such a manner that, if we were to attempt an 
artificial separation — e.g., of the law of substance in rela- 
tion to perception, and the law of substance in relation to 
internal presentation, — we should dislocate our topics, and 
destroy that unity of view which is requisite for compre- 
hension j 1 yet that there is a gradual transition, from topic 
to topic, along the line of thought which was followed out 
in the second part, viz., from perception, via representa- 
tion, to pure reason. 

1 " Hoc non est dividere, sed frangere rem." (Cic.) 



104 



CHAPTEE II. 

OP BELIEF.— WHAT IT IS. 

When men say that they doubt, or believe, or know, 
this or that, they are in this mental act bringing together 
two distinct objects of thought, and affirming a certain 
correspondency, perfect or imperfect, between the two. 

When I doubt the testimony of an eye-witness as to a 
certain event, the two objects thus brought together are, 
the statement of facts which I hear, and the facts which I 
suppose to have actually occurred out of my presence. 
When I believe that what I remember as having taken 
place yesterday did take place yesterday, the two objects 
are, respectively, the remembrance presented, and the 
occurrence of yesterday which is in this manner repre- 
sented. When I say I know that what I at this moment 
see does actually at this moment exist as a phenomenon, 
the two objects are, the phenomenon considered simply in 
itself, and the phenomenon viewed with relation to the 
possibility of illusion. 

In each of these cases, the act of bringing together the 
two objects, and contemplating them as having a certain 
unity when taken in one view, is an act purely intelli- 
gcntial ; and, so far as this act is concerned, it would seem 
that the relation of one to the other of the two objects 
respectively combined is one and the same in each of the 
three cases. 13 ut, from another point of view, there is this 



OF BELIEF. WHAT IT IS. 105 

difference between them ; each of the three combinations 
of two objects appears to engender in the mind a feeling, 
or internal presentation, different in kind from that en- 
gendered by either of the others. In the first case we 
have the presentation called doubting, in the second 
that called believing, and in the third that called 
knowing. 

These appear to be simple feelings, not susceptible of 
definition, because not traceable to anything more rudi- 
mentary ; just as it is impossible to define a simple per- 
ception, as the colour red or blue. 

It often happens that we know whether we believe or 
doubt a particular fact, without at the moment knowing 
why we do so. A man makes an assertion: perhaps he 
affirms some fact which is new to us ; we believe it, 
or we doubt it, and we know perfectly well which we do ; 
while, if we attempted to give a reason, even to ourselves, 
either for the belief or the doubt, we should perhaps be a 
good deal puzzled. In such a case as this, we have the 
belief or doubt present to the consciousness, but the causes 
of that belief or doubt absent, at the moment, from it. 
There must, then, be some difference between these two 
feelings, — viewed in themselves, apart from any con- 
sideration of the causes which may have engendered them, 
— by which we are enabled, on experiencing one of them, 
to distinguish it from the other. But this difference, like 
that between the colours red and blue, is too primitive for 
definition ; being the difference between two simple feelings. 1 

Each of these, as of all other, acts of judgment, being 
the mental bringing together of two objects of thought, 
requires as a condition that the object concerning which 

1 The term feeling is here, as throughout, used as synonymous with "in- 
ternal presentation;" feeling is to the self that which perception is to the 
not-self. 



106 OF BELIEF. WHAT IT IS. 

we say that we know, or believe, or doubt, its truth, shall 
at least have been apprehended by the mind, so that we 
know what it is. Obvious as this appears, it seems to have 
by some accident escaped the acuteness of Sir William 
Hamilton, when he pronounces "the infinite" to be in- 
cognizable, and yet affirms that we are so framed as neces- 
sarily to believe in its existence. 1 The judgment "A. exists," 
appears to involve an act of thinking or apprehending A., 
plus something more. 

It may perhaps be thought that the difference between 
the three feelings, doubting, believing, and knowing, con- 
sists merely in the different correspondency, or closeness of 
union, between the two objects of thought brought into 
conjunction in each of the three acts of judgment respec- 
tively. If the correspondency is perfect, so that there is 
no one instance to the contrary, and never will or can be 
one, then, it may be thought, we have knowledge, i.e., 
an opinion, or conclusion of the intellect, that there never 
can be a contrariety between the object as thought and the 
object as existing. And so of the other two : in each case 
a conclusion of the pure intellect has been formed, and has 
been made permanent by annexing to it a distinctive 
name ; after which the connexion of ideas suffices to recal 
the intellectual conclusion, upon the mere hearing or 
thinking of the name. On this view, these three judg- 
ments are in no sense feelings — i.e., internal presentations, 
— but simply compendious expressions of a completed in- 
telligential process. 

But it must be answered : — This may be the right way 
of accounting for the formation within the mind of this 

1 " The unconditioned is incognizable and inconceivable" (Discuss, p. 12). 

"By a wonderful revelation, we are, in Hie very consciousness of our inability 

to conceive aughl abovi the relative and Unite, inspired with a belief in the 
existence of something unconditioned beyond the sphere of all reprehensible 

reality" (ib. p. 15). 



OF BELIEF. WHAT IT IS. 107 

or that kind of judgment with, reference to this or that 
individual object-matter. It may be that the reason why 
we have come to doubt the testimony of witnesses is that 
we have known instances of their mendacity ; why we 
believe in the general fidelity of our own memory is that 
we have had its reports very frequently confirmed from 
other sources, and by their own permanency ; why we 
know that phenomena really exist as phenomena is that 
we have never had an instance to the contrary. But the 
question is, not how have I come by such or such a feeling 
or conclusion of the intellect ; but, is belief a feeling or 
no ? This question may most readily be answered — if the 
consciousness, directly appealed to, gives a response which 
is not clear enough — by enquiring whether, in the order 
of time, the intellectual conclusion, or the name, or some- 
thing else, comes first. If it be the fact that there is a 
something else, which proclaims the result before con- 
sciously working out the intellectual process of inference to 
a conclusion, and annexes the name after, or in the act of, 
proclaiming the result, then at any rate the act of judg- 
ment contains or involves something else besides a process 
of the intellect and the coining of a name : there must 
likewise be a feeling, or internal presentation, by which 
we are directly conscious of a mood answering to the 
thought. And this, as has been said, appears to be the 
case. A man tells me a piece of news. Instantly upon 
the hearing of it, without knowing why, I believe, or I 
disbelieve, or I doubt : and this with no word uttered by 
me ; so that, whatever has engendered that state of mind 
in me, no association of ideas founded on language can 
account for it : nor can the thing of which I am conscious 
be merely the intellectual process above spoken of, since of 
that process I am not conscious at all — I cannot even by 
an effort bring to the surface of my mind the causes of my 



108 OF BELIEF. WHAT IT IS. 

belief or disbelief: that of which I am conscious must 
therefore be a mood, state of mind, or feeling. 

Considered simply in themselves, as feelings, it is obvi- 
ous that the contrary to belief is, not disbelief, but doubt. 
For, disbelief in A. is belief in not- A. : it is the same state 
of mind, but with reference to a different object. Doubt 
and belief may indeed coexist in the same mind with 
reference to the same object ; but they coexist as con- 
flicting and mutually destructive forces. Doubt may be 
the equipoise of two opposing beliefs. Perfect belief is 
that which has no mixture of doubting : perfect doubt, that 
which has no inclination or bias towards one rather than 
the other of the beliefs which are its contraries and the 
contradictories of one another. 

Belief, then, is the contrary of doubt. "What, in the 
next place, is the relation of belief to knowledge ? 

It is, perhaps, less correct to say that believing is one 
thing and knowing another, than that knowing is one 
kind of believing. Pure and perfect belief — i.e., belief 
unmixed with doubt, — is knowledge. We know, if we 
know anything, that which our senses at the moment in- 
form us. Yery well : but a closer analysis shows us that, 
of what we think we are at this moment seeing, a large 
portion is contributed by the mind itself, as the result of 
training and the association of ideas, — e.g., relative sizes of 
distant and nearer objects, foreshortening, and even single 
and upright vision. Shall we, then, so soon as wc have 
learnt this lesson, subtract from the thing we know this 
portion of it, and hold that this is only matter of belief, 
while what we know is simply that which is really upon 
the retina of the eye — or that picture which is presented 
to the mind from without itself P Apparently we must do 
this ; since the former portion is dependent on the fidelity 
of our mental faculties, which is only a matter of belief 



OF BELIEF. WHAT IT IS. 109 

with us. But the study of metaphysics will not permit 
the disintegration of knowledge to stop at this point. You 
think it is you who are receiving in your mind a picture or 
impression of something external to yourself : and this you 
suppose to be a part of that which you at this moment 
knoiv. From this supposed knowledge you must please to 
subtract two things, — that it is you who are receiving it, 
and that there is a something external to yourself from 
whence the impression proceeds. These two are beliefs 
contributed by the mind : they are inexplicable and there 
is no verifying them. If knowledge be something other 
than belief, these, being beliefs only, must not be brought 
into your list of things known. There remains, then, this 
residuum : that phenomenon of perception which seems at 
this moment to be before me does in reality seem at this 
moment to be before me. This, however, is an identical 
proposition. If the formula, " What is, is," contains any 
matter of thought whatever, it may be questioned whether 
even this formula is not rather a matter of belief than of 
knowledge : for the form of it is contributed by the mind 
itself, but the objective validity of our mental powers 
cannot be verified, but must be taken on trust. 

Thus, going step by step, we seem to find that what 
we take to be our knowledge resolves itself into belief. 

Can we, perhaps, make the following distinction : — Those 
judgments as to which error is simply inconceivable, repre- 
sent what we know : those as to which error is conceivable, 
but is not in fact supposed to exist, represent our beliefs ? 

All objects which we regard as existing, are regarded 
by us either as necessary or contingent ; and, of the con- 
tingent, each is either constant or varying. A thing either 
must happen, always happens, or sometimes does not 
happen. That is necessary, the contradictory of which is 
inconceivable. That is universal-contingent, the contra- 



110 



OF BELIEF. WHAT IT IS. 



dictory of which can be conceived, but is believed to have 
no existence. That is contingent simply, the contradictory 
of which both can be conceived, and is believed sometimes 
to exist. 

Of simply- contingent or universal-contingent objects of 
judgment, we can have no higher cognition than belief; 
for, a belief either in the non-existence or in the occasional 
existence of their respective contradictories forms one 
necessary ingredient of this knowledge : and, as a convoy 
of shij)s can sail no faster than the slowest sailer amongst 
them, so our knowledge can reach no greater height than 
the measure of its weakest constituent element. If, to 
make up the sum of what I mean when I say " A. exists," 
it is necessary that I should hold the non-existence of A. 
to be a thing which never has been or will be, and if I am 
unable to hold this except as a belief, my assertion that A. 
exists must likewise stand as no more than a belief. Per- 
haps, however, the case may be otherwise with those judg- 
ments which have the character of necessity. 

If there be such a state of mind as knowing, and if it be 
a state of more perfect certainty than that of merely be- 
lieving, then, as it would seem that no judgments can be 
more certain than necessary judgments, necessary judg- 
ments must be not simpty believed but known. 

Such is the reasoning by which it may be argued that 
knowledge, as a something higher and other than belief, 
exists. Those who would reason thus may very likely feel 
disposed to assail the chain of argument which was pre- 
sented Immediately before theirs, in order to establish that 
knowledge is only a kind of belief, in the following 
manner : — 

We think — thai is, the unscientific think — that they not 
Jin rely believe, but know, that which their senses at the 
moment exhibit to them. They arc right in thinking so. 



OF BELIEF. WHAT IT IS. 



Ill 



They err only in supposing that their senses exhibit all 
which they think they see or otherwise perceive : this is a 
complex, of which a certain portion is contributed by the 
natural faculties of the perceiving mind, the objective 
validity of which faculties, it must be conceded, is matter 
of belief merely. We concede, then, that this portion 
must be subtracted from the thing known. What remains 
is that which has been called, in the paragraph we are 
now criticising, an " identical proposition;" viz., ""that 
phenomenon of perception which at this moment seems to 
be before me does in reality seem to be at this moment 
before me." This is a necessary proposition : its con- 
tradictory is inconceivable : and, whether it contains 
much or little, it contains something ; it is a synthetic, 
not an analytic judgment — ampliative, not simply ex- 
plicative. This is true of that more general judgment of 
which this is an example, — "What is, is." It is this 
judgment by which we are able to affirm, as was affirmed 
in Chapter I. of the First Part, that " there is about con- 
sciousness a sort of certainty peculiar to itself: I may 
doubt whether there be objects external to myself, but it is 
not possible for me to doubt that the appearance as of such 
objects is really presented in my consciousness." This 
affirmation of a reality, though only a subjective reality, in 
the objects of consciousness, is not an unmeaning formula 
of words, but is the connecting together of two distinct 
objects of thought — the phenomenon, and its reality. We 
have, then, from perception, a residuum, which is matter 
of absolute knowledge, not simply of belief, — viz., the 
subjective reality of that which we at the moment perceive 
purely by the senses. 

I have thus endeavoured fairly to state what I suppose 
to be the reasoning, and the objections to my reasons to 
the contrary, of those who hold that knowledge is not a 



112 OF BELIEF. — WHAT IT IS. 

kind of belief, but something generically distinct from it. 
The reasoning appears to me, however, to be unsatis- 
factory. 

How are we to get over the difficulty already pro- 
pounded ? If the judgment, " What is, is," be a syn- 
thetic judgment, it is a judgment the validity of which 
must depend on the validity of the process of synthesis. 
This process is a mental process. Who is to guarantee for 
us the objective validity of any of our mental processes ? 
We can and do believe in this validity : but we can never 
verify it in any way : illusoriness is conceivable of it, 
though the manner of the illusion may in this or that 
instance be inconceivable : but, that which, for aught we 
know, may be illusory, and which we have no means of 
verifying, may be believed, but cannot be said to be 
known, — if knowledge is a something different in kind 
from belief. 

On the whole, then, we seem driven back to the conclu- 
sion that knowing and believing are not in reality two 
different states of mind, but that knowing is a kind of 
believing. It remains for us to consider — what kind ? 

According to the ordinary use of these terms in popular 
language, it would be perfectly accurate to say, I believe 
this and you believe the contrary ; I believe this now and 
I believed the contrary a year ago ; but equally inaccurate 
to say, I know this and you know the contrary, or, I know 
this now and I knew the contrary a year ago. From this 
it may be seen that knowledge is taken to be something 
which is permanent and universal, while belief may change 
from lime to time and be different in different minds. 
Knowledge, then, may probably be defined as the perma- 
nent belief's of man as man. 

No belief can be relied upon as permanent, even in one 
mm, except such a belief as has been formed after the 



OF BELIEF. — WHAT IT IS. 113 

fullest investigation and study of the question which the 
man is capable of : for, any other belief must be liable to 
be subverted upon a fuller inquiry. -No belief can be 
relied on as being the permanent belief of man as man, 
except such as has been formed after the fullest investiga- 
tion of which the human mind is capable. Knowledge, 
then, is belief founded upon an exhaustive study of the 
object-matter. 

That this study eventually leads us to, and rests upon, 
certain inexplicable beliefs concerning our own mental 
constitution and powers, does not in the least militate 
against its results being that which we call knowledge. 

For example ; a chemist knows that water is composed 
of oxygen and hydrogen; for he has himself conducted 
the requisite experiments, and has so carefully verified the 
result as to be satisfied there can be no mistake. He is 
persuaded that, in our existing state of knowledge, the 
human mind can arrive at no other conclusion. But, if 
our chemist happens also to be a metaphysician — a cir- 
cumstance which ought not to diminish his aptitude for 
obtaining knowledge as to the fact in chemistry, — he will 
know that the soundness of his conclusions on this point 
must depend on the objective validity of his perceptions, 
memory, and power of reasoning ; all which, so far as his 
assurance of them is concerned, rest on no steadier a basis 
than a belief within his own mind. His knowledge, there- 
fore, is but a belief; but, because it is such a belief that 
belongs to man as man, and is one of the permanent 
elements in his nature, the chemist nevertheless has a 
right to say, I know that the fact concerning water is 
so and so. 

We, who take the fact at secondhand, on the authority 
of chemists or chemical books, have not the same right as 
our chemist, to sav that we know the fact is so : because 



114 OF BELIEF — WHAT IT IS. 

wc have not ourselves pushed the investigation as far as 
we have it in our power to do. We, therefore, can only 
say that we believe it. 

On this view of the ease, a primary belief, so long as it 
operates on the mind unconsciously, and before we have 
verified its nature, does not give us real knowledge ; but, 
so soon as we have once traced out and verified its rank as 
a primary belief, or constituent of mind as mind, then the 
things which this belief assures us of must be regarded as 
being known. 



115 



CHAPTEE III. 
THE DOCTRINE OF "NATURAL REALISM." 

It has for many years been a generally received opinion 
amongst metaphysicians, that mind and matter never do, 
and indeed cannot by possibility, come into direct contact 
or intercommunication one with another. It cannot be 
denied, however, that the vast majority of mankind believe 
that they can and do. The question is, whether the philo- 
sophers, or the multitude, are in the right. 

The former would argue their case to the following 
effect : — That the popular opinion is erroneous altogether, 
seems not unlikely from the fact that at any rate a large 
portion of it, and this the portion which lies nearest to the 
surface, is demonstrably erroneous. It is certain that men 
ordinarily believe that they see objects themselves. A 
man looks at an apple tree, and thinks what he sees is 
the tree; whereas it can be proved to him that what he 
sees is not the tree, but rather the rays of light reflected 
from it; not those rays, but rather the picture of them 
drawn on the retina ; not that picture, but rather the im- 
pression on the optic nerve ; not that impression, but the 
report of it communicated through the nerve to the brain. 
It matters little at what point our science is compelled to 
stop in this process of tracing a perception inwards, towards 
the more central regions of the bodily organism ; we may 
be still in the infancy of our knowledge on this head ; but 



116 THE DOCTRINE OF "NATURAL REALISM." 

we already know so much as that what we directly see, 
hear, or touch, is not the object itself, but something inter- 
mediate between the object and the mind. In other words, 
we know enough to emancipate ourselves from the popular 
belief. This being so, let us venture a little further. 

"There is no possible knowledge of the world," says 
one of the most recent English metaphysicians of the 
idealist school, "except in reference to our minds. Know- 
ledge means a state of mind ; the notion of material things 
is a mental thing. We are incapable of discussing the 
existence of an independent material world ; the very act 
is a contradiction. We can speak only of a world pre- 
sented to our own minds. By an illusion of language, we 
fancy that we are capable of contemplating a world which 
does not enter into our own mental existence ; but the 
attempt belies itself, for this contemplation is an effort of 
mind." l 

Idealism, in its various forms, is the development of the 
principle here stated, — that it is impossible for mind to 
come into direct intercommunication with not-mind or 
matter. 

Everything that enters upon the consciousness must, it 
is argued, by the very fact of entering upon it, become a 
part of the consciousness itself; but my consciousness is 
part of me, — in other words, is, or is part of, my mind. 
Between natures so contrary to, or at least so unlike, one 
another, as mind and matter, there can be no direct con- 
tact. Such is the argument — and the whole of it. 

Three stages of idealism are to be noted, as having, in 
this country at least, been developed successively from one 
another. 

The first kind, which is that adopted by Locke, sots out 
willi an assumption, unphilosophical enough, that there is 

1 PkU&Mar Bain. The Senses and the Intellect, pp. 370-371. 



117 

a world of matter, though, it is a world of which the mind 
can have no direct cognizance ; and it proceeds to con- 
struct a machinery for bridging over the space between 
matter and mind. This machinery consists of idea-images, 
— a species of spectral or quasi mental counterparts of 
material objects. These act as envoys between mind and 
matter, exhibiting to the mind pictures which, as being 
mental, can find entrance there, while, as being the exact 
imitations and counterfeits of material objects, the mind 
by this means becomes practically as well informed about 
material objects as if it were capable of contact with the 
objects themselves. This theory may be called crude or 
latent idealism. 

From this, to pure idealism — the idealism of Berkeley — 
the transition was almost inevitable. If it be true that 
mind cannot come into contact with matter, what reason 
can we possibly have, it must be asked, for supposing there 
is such a thing as matter ? Granting that we have those 
modifications of mind which we call ideas, or idea-images, 
why should we postulate the existence of an unknown 
something, of which these ideas are gratuitously supposed 
to be the counterparts ? If ideas are the sole objects of 
knowledge, let us at once accept them as the sole objects 
of existence : we know of no other ; we have no valid 
reason for so much as conjecturing that there may be 
any other. 

The thorough- going idealism of Berkeley, though it has 
had some distinguished followers, has in this country been 
somewhat superseded by a judicious modification of it, in- 
troduced by Brown, and assailed and ridiculed with a 
certain acrimony by Hamilton, under the title of Cosmo- 
thetic Idealism. Dr. Brown goes with Berkeley in hold- 
ing that ideas, or in other words states of mind, are the 
only objects which the mind is capable of directly appre- 



118 THE DOCTRINE OF 

hending. On the other hand, as the changes in our states 
of mind must have causes, which we instinctively ascribe 
to something external to the mind, there must be an ex- 
ternal universe, which is thus manifested to us in its effects, 
although we never are nor can be directly conscious of its 
existence. The proof that there is this unknown external 
world, or that successive phenomena are linked together in 
the way of cause and effect, is found in the fact that man- 
kind universally believe so. 1 

To all these systems alike, the same objection may be 
made ; all alike are based on an assumption, which is 
purely gratuitous, viz, — that mind cannot by possibility 
come into contact with anything which is not mind. To 
say that the mode of such contact is incomprehensible, is 
saying nothing : since every ultimate fact in nature and 
in our own mental constitution is in like manner incom- 
prehensible as to its modes. The assertion that mind and 
matter cannot come into contact would perhaps be legiti- 
mate, if we possessed a thorough and exhaustive know- 
ledge of the properties, and so of the possibilities, of mind 
and matter such as they are in themselves. But, as these 
are absolutely unknown to us, except so far as the two 
exist in combination or relatively the one to the other, — 
that is to say, except so far as the nature of either has 
manifested itself upon the consciousness, — we have not the 
materials for determining a priori the laws of their possible 
combination. 



1 "Wh.it I term my perception of the colour, or shape, or fragrance, or 
taste, of a peach, is a certain state of my own mind, for my mind surely can 
be conscious only of its own feelings." (Lect. 2:3, p. 52(5). This conclusion, 
Brown goes on to s;i y, cannot he confuted by argument ; but in spite of it. 
men are impelled, as a by an instinct, to belisvein the existence of an external 
world. This belief he does not conceive (p. .3 is) to be any peculiar intuition, 
hut merely the effect of that more general intuition hy which we are Led to 
ascribe changes to what wo term causes. See, more generally, Lectures 18, 
19, 28, and 25. 



119 

For this reason, idealism, in each of its phases, may at 
any rate be pronounced " non-proven." It is based on an 
assumption which is unsusceptible of proof. We do not 
know so much concerning the essence of the mind as to 
justify our regarding it as being, like an oyster, shut up 
within a crust which prevents contact with external objects, 
rather than like the nervous tissues of the human body, 
en rapport, inexplicably indeed, yet unquestionably, with 
objects external to them. But it is not enough that we 
should be thus neutral on the question : it must be main- 
tained, not merely that the theory of idealism is baseless, 
but that it is unsound. 

The idealism of Berkeley is the most logical of the three : 
but it violates the first condition of any philosophy which 
has a positive side — however the case may stand with 
absolute scepticism or pure nihilism — in disowning sub- 
mission to a clearly recognized, instinctive, belief of the 
human mind; the belief, namely, that, in some of our 
conscious acts or impressions, our mind is in direct con- 
tact with objects external to ourselves. 

The prevalence of this belief is too notorious to require 
proof. Hamilton has quoted, amongst other testimonies 
on the part of idealists and sceptics, a very emphatic ad- 
mission of the fact, made by Hume. " It seems evident," 
says Hume, who in this concession — Hamilton remarks — 
must be allowed to express the common acknowledgment 
of philosophers, "that when men follow this blind and 
powerful instinct of nature, they always suppose the very 
images, presented by the senses, to be the external objects, 
and never entertain any suspicion, that the one are nothing 
but representations of the other. This very table, which 
we see white, and which we feel hard, is believed to exist, 
independent of our perception, and to be something ex- 
ternal to our mind which perceives it. Our presence 



120 



bestows not being on it ; our absence does not annihilate 
it. It preserves its existence, uniform and entire, inde- 
pendent of the situation of intelligent beings, who perceive 
or contemplate it. But this universal and primary opinion 
of all men is soon destroyed by the slightest philosophy, 
which teaches us that nothing can ever be present to the 
mind but an image or perception, and that the senses are 
only the inlets through which these images are perceived, 
without being ever able to produce any immediate inter- 
course between the mind and the object." l 

As regards pure idealism, then, we are at liberty to 
choose between absolute scepticism, which is the only 
logical result, as has been seen, of a refusal to acknowledge 
the validity of a "universal and primary opinion" of man- 
kind, and the rejection of this theory, which avowedly 
necessitates such a refusal. 

The modified forms of idealism, as well the cruder as 
the latest, have all the weakness of pure idealism, together 
with special infirmities of their own, naturally resulting 
from their want of logical consistency. 

The older theory, which supposes matter to exist, and 
to be represented to mind through the medium of idea- 
images, has been — I suppose it may without harshness be 
said — demolished by M. Cousin. The only ground for 
framing such a hypothesis, he shows, has been a notion 
that mind and matter are for some reason or other in- 
capable of direct contact. This difficulty, however, sup- 
posing it to exist, would not be in the least removed by 
the supposition of any medium. For, that property in 
matter, be it what it may, which from its nature is in- 
admissible directly into the mind, must either exist or not 
exist in the medium. In the former case, so much of the 
medium must likewise be inadmissible into the mind ; in 

1 Hume, Enquiry, $ 12, cited in Hairiilton'n Lectures, vol. ii., p. 116. 



THE DOCTRINE OF "NATURAL REALISM." 121 

the latter, the medium must to that extent fail to represent 
its material counterpart. In either case, the medium is 
useless, since the mind receives by its help nothing which 
it might not equally well have received without it. This 
inadmissible property, which cannot find direct entrance 
into the mind, fails to find an entrance indirectly. 

From this we may understand why it is that idealism 
is found constantly to tend towards a Philosophical Uni- 
tarianism — the denial of the dualism of mind and matter \, 
sometimes dispensing with the existence of mind, some- 
times with that of matter. The medium is sometimes 
thought of as quasi-material, and then the tendency is to 
make out that the mind itself, from its receptivity of the 
medium, must be material : sometimes as quasi-mental,, 
and then the mind is still shut up as completely within 
the circle of its own operations, as though no such medium 
existed. The medium, in a word, does not serve to carry 
intelligence from the one realm to the other. 

As for the "cosmothetic idealism" of Dr. Brown, popular 
as it may have been in its day, it seems intrinsically to be 
the weakest of the three. Brown believes that there is a 
material world, because — and only because — men have a 
primary belief that there is ; he disbelieves that the mind 
comes into contact with, or directly apprehends, that world, 
although men have as distinct a primary belief that it does 
so. This inconsistency is fatal to his system. 

Some notice is perhaps due to that argument in support 
of idealism which is founded on the fact that there are 
popular errors on the subject of perception. It is contended 
that because the belief of men in general is demonstrably 
erroneous in some particulars, it is therefore untrustworthy 
in any respect. This way of reasoning will be found on 
examination to be based on a confounding of primary with 
derivative beliefs. The very fact that a certain belief can 



122 THE DOCTRINE OF " NATURAL REALISM." 

•upon a sufficient proof of falsity be driven out of men's 
minds, so that they shall henceforth cease to entertain it, 
and practically apprehend that it has been an error, is 
enough to prove that such belief is not primary. Tried 
by this test, the difference between the two beliefs in ques- 
tion seems very striking. I can easily be convinced that 
what I come into contact with in the act of seeing is, not 
such an object as a star, but a ray of light radiating from 
it, or a picture on the retina, or a message sent along a 
nerve to the brain : x I cannot practically believe that I 
come into contact with nothing. That derivative beliefs 
may be and often are erroneous, proves nothing : but if 
one single primary belief be proved erroneous, the authority 
of all is at once overthrown, and, as has been seen, we are 
driven to absolute scepticism. There is nothing peculiar 
in the case of perception, to distinguish it from our other 
faculties : if this one instinct of human nature be fallacious, 
so are all our instincts. The choice lies between dualism 
and, not idealism, but nihilism. 

Such is the course of reasoning on which Sir ~W. Hamilton 
maintains against idealism the position that there are two 
distinct spheres of being — mind and matter — and that, in 
perception, the one of these spheres comes into direct con- 
tact or intercommunication with the other. To this doc- 
trine he has given the name of Natural Realism, or 
Dualism. 

In order to complete this doctrine, and place it on a 
secure basis, it seems requisite to exhibit distinctly what 
it is with which the mind comes into contact in external 
percept ion ; in other words, accurately to define a "percept." 

Let it be conceded that, amongst the data of conscious- 

1 In foot, it is only from inattention if we do not perceive the difference 
between what we think we see, and what, we do see ! witness the vast difference 
which a man finds in tin; aspect of nature before and after he has trained his 
ightby such work as, for example, sketching with colours from nature. 



THE DOCTRTNE OF "NATURAL REALISM." 123 

ness, there are some portions as to which we feel the pre- 
sence of the not-self, impinging as it were upon the self ; 
the question then arises, which are those portions ? 

From the nature of the case, no other test can be found 
for distinguishing the data in question from the remainder 
of our consciousness, than an internal feeling, instinctive 
and inexplicable, by which we recognize the presence and 
quasi-contact of the not-self. This feeling is fortunately 
so distinct and strong, that there is no difficulty in tracing 
its presence, or noting its absence, when we have once 
recognized the necessity for making the attempt. 

In the chapter on external perception, in the First Part, 
have been set down those which appear to be the distinguish- 
ing characters of a percept. When we compare one thing 
with another, when we draw inferences, when we remem- 
ber, when we identify two percepts, when we give unity to 
an object apprehended by two or more senses, — in these 
and similar operations the mind is conscious of an activity 
which may be called solitary : it is not conscious of im- 
mediate mental contact with objects external to itself. 
None of these operations are percepts. A percept is the 
report of a single sense at a single moment of time. A 
percept differs from the remembrance or image of a percept, 
not necessarily in being more vivid or distinct, but by some 
generic difference for which we have no name, which is 
inexplicable to us, but of the presence of which we can 
never be doubtful. 

The appeal to this test of direct consciousness appears to 
be the necessary deduction from Sir W. Hamilton's theory. 
His whole argument is based on the existence of such an 
instinctive feeling, such a sensitiveness of the mind to con- 
tact with matter, as shall enable it to discriminate between 
these two classes of data. If such a sense exists, it un- 
doubtedly exists that it may be used. 



124 THE DOCTRINE OF "NATURAL REALISM." 

Nevertheless, it seems far from clear that Hamilton 
had ever emancipated himself from the opinion of Reid, 
strangely inconsistent with his own general doctrine, that 
the "Primary qualities" of matter are not only as directly 
but even more directly apprehended in perception than 
the Secondary qualities. 

Those which have been called the primary qualities of 
matter — as, extension, solidity, figure, mobility, and num- 
ber — appear to be distinguished from the secondary qual- 
ities, as colour, hardness, and the like, in this, — that the 
former are supposed to be inseparably inherent in matter 
as such. But how do we come to know that these qualities 
are thus inseparably inherent ? Clearly in no other way 
than by a comparison of observations. We observe that 
in whatever way, through whatever sense, we acquire any 
knowledge concerning matter, we always find these qual- 
ities to be present. Thus the primary qualities are "com- 
mon sensibles," koivcl aicrOrjTa, being made known to us, 
not by this or that sense singly, but by all the senses : and 
it is not until we have ascertained the fact, that no sense 
exhibits to us matter divested of such qualities, that we 
can pronounce any one of them to be primary. This know- 
ledge then requires a comparison of dissimilar sensations, 
and an extraction of one common quality from the sensa- 
tions so compared. But the comparison of sensations, tried 
by the test above named, must be pronounced an act of 
the mind alone. We cannot compare sensations without 
the aid of memory, which is an act purely mental, if repre- 
sentations are purely mental, as our consciousness appears 
distinctly to affirm. We must conclude, then, that the 
sole objects of perception, properly so called, are the 
secondary qualities of matter. 1 

1 This MOM to 1)0 the theory of Mr. Manscl. "The primary qualities,' 4 
he Bays, "are the universal attributes of body, common to every mode of its 



THE DOCTRINE OF " NATURAL REALISM." 125 

From this we are led a step further, and it is one which 
I confess I do not take without hesitation. Have we the 
right to say that we perceive differences ? Is not the dis- 
crimination of difference between objects perceived a purely 
mental act? It is true that we perceive objects which 
differ. The concrete fact — the perception of such objects — 
is an act in which mind and matter are brought into juxta- 
position : but the act by which we bring together two such 
objects, and distinctly realize in thought the circumstance 
of their differing thus or thus, appears to result from an 
activity of the mind alone, withdrawing itself from its 
contact with matter, and working in solitude. That this 
is really so will appear, if we consider that a difference is 
a thing which cannot be realized to the imagination — 
cannot be represented — from which it may reasonably be 
inferred that it never has been " presented. " Every noting 
of difference contains a negative : there is in one of the 
objects something which is not in the other : but negatives, 
though objects of thought, are not objects of presentation. 

A percept, then, as has been said, is the datum of a 
single sense at a single moment. It is concrete, positive, 
and singular. It contains no matter of inference, selection, 
or comparison. What we directly apprehend in contact 
with matter is, such phenomena as colours, savours, tactual 
qualities, and the like. All beyond this is contributed by 
the purely personal activity of our own minds. 

existence as an object of consciousness. Hence they are not, properly speak- 
ing, known by sense, but by intellect, having no special organ adapted to their 
perception, but being equally present in every exercise of the bodily senses. 
Hence, too, they cannot, in their pure form, be depicted to the sense or the 
imagination, but require in every instance to be united vrith one or other of 
the secondary qualities which are the proper objects of the several senses." 
(Philosophy of Consciousness, p. 110.) 



126 



CHAPTEE IV. 

SUBSTANCE. 

All matter of knowledge is in the first instance ex- 
hibited to each of us under the aspect of data or facts of 
consciousness : everything is spread, so to speak, upon this 
canvass : nevertheless, we find ourselves believing in, or 
rather taking for granted we know not why or how, the 
existence of objects and of a percipient subject or self. 

Of our senses, each one brings us into contact with some 
single phase or aspect of these "objects," having no com- 
munity with that presented by any other sense. Through 
our sight, the mind impinges upon colours, and those only ; 
through our touch, upon roughness, hardness, or other 
such qualities ; through our hearing, upon noises. Red- 
ness, roughness, and trumpet sound have between them no 
community of nature, so far as we can discover ; and there 
is nothing about them, considered simply as data of con- 
sciousness, which should lead us to link them together, as 
belonging to some unknown substance or substratum, not 
directly apprehended by the mind. Yet this is what 
appears in fact to take place. Everything, without excep- 
tion, of which our senses directly inform us, is, with or 
without reason, thought by us to be a quality — in other 
words, to inhere in some substance. 

This propensity of the mind, in virtue of which the 
isolated and piecemeal reports of our several senses are 



SUBSTANCE. 127 

bound together into larger parcels, appears to have sin* 
gularly perplexed and disquieted, not to say irritated, 
several philosophers of the sensationalist school. It has 
appeared to them a little ridiculous. The ill-conditioned 
race of mortals, not content with the brave show of many- 
coloured phenomena which is continually streaming forth 
before their senses, has obstinately refused to regard these 
phenomena as so many isolated appearances floating loose 
in the sky, but has invented phrases absolutely without 
meaning, and*a machinery as cumbrous and unreal as the 
vortices of Descartes, to explain, forsooth, and account for 
that which they cannot be content quietly to enjoy. Why 
should colours be qualities ? of what are they qualities ? 
What do we mean by qualities inhering or "sticking in" 
substances ? Give at least an intelligible account, if j^ou 
can, of that which you understand by a " substance/ ' Thus, 
not content with simply denying that substances exist or 
can exist, writers of this school are sometimes inclined to 
scoff at and insult the weakness of the human race for 
believing that they do. 

By this means, the good old orthodox doctrine of sub- 
stance and qualities, though it be still taught to young 
men in the Universities in text books of logic, and still is 
somewhat current in popular discourse, has come to be 
very much discredited among metaphysicians, at all events 
amongst those who are popularly regarded as having the 
best claim to philosophical orthodoxy. 

Before entering upon a serious examination of this doc- 
trine, it may be well to listen a little to our sensationalists. 

Let us begin with David Hume ; who, as might have 
been anticipated, contents himself with stating the difficulty, 
without an attempt, and obviously without a wish, to 
solve it. 

"'Tis confessed," says Hume, "by the most judicious 



128 SUBSTANCE. 

philosophers, that our ideas of bodies are nothing but col- 
lections formed by the mind of the ideas of the several 
distinct sensible qualities, of which objects are composed, 
-and which we see to have a constant union with each 
other." How is it, he proceeds to ask, that whereas the 
ideas (representations) which we call qualities, as a red 
colour, a roughness to the touch, and the like, are many 
and dissimilar, we yet bring them by parcels together, and 
regard the compound as one thing ? This he accounts for 
in the following manner : — " When we gradually follow 
•an object in its successive changes, the smooth progress of 
the thought makes us ascribe an identity to the succession ; 
because 'tis by a similar act of the mind we consider an 
unchangeable object. "When we compare its situation after 
a considerable change, the progress of the thought is 
broken ; and consequently we are presented with the idea 
of diversity : in order to reconcile which contradictions the 
imagination is apt to feign something unknown and in- 
visible, which it supposes to continue the same under all 
these variations ; and this unintelligible something it calls 
a substance, or original and first matter." Having thus 
feigned a substance, the imagination, he tells us, proceeds 
to make the delusion complete and self- consistent, by trans- 
muting all sensible appearances into things called qualities 
or attributes of these imaginary substrata. " The notion 
of accidents is an unavoidable consequence," he sa} r s, "of 
this method of thinking with regard to substances and 
substantial forms ; nor can we forbear looking upon colours, 
sounds, tastes, figures, and other properties of objects, as 
existences which cannot subsist apart, but require a subject 
of inhesion to sustain and support them .... This conceit, 
however, Lb ho more reasonable than any of the foregoing. 
Every quality being a distinct thing from another, may be 
conceived to exist apart, and may exist apart, not only 



SUBSTANCE. 129 

from every other quality, but from that unintelligible 
chimera of a substance." These figments of the imagina- 
tion, Hume goes on to say, having once been pieced to- 
gether, and driven well into men's minds, have ever since 
appeared perfectly satisfactory to the vulgar, who are not- 
hard to please about such matters. Philosophers, however, 
began to find out how slight was the foundation on which 
they rested, and, not being able either to remain contented 
with, or to disentangle themselves from, the fixed opinion 
of the multitude, were for a great while in a very lament- 
able condition. "But," he continues, "as nature seems to 
have observed a kind of justice and compensation in every- 
thing, she has not neglected philosophers more than the 
rest of the creation ; but has reserved them a consolation 
amidst all their disappointments and afflictions. This con- 
solation principally consists in their invention of the words 
faculty and occult quality. For, it being usual, after the 
frequent use of terms which are really significant and in- 
telligible, to omit the idea which we would express by 
them, and to preserve only the custom by which we recal 
the idea at pleasure ; so it natural^ happens that, after 
the frequent use of terms which are wholly insignificant 
and unintelligible, we fancy them to be on the same footing 
with the precedent, and to have a secret meaning which 
we might discover by reflection. By this means these 
philosophers set themselves at ease, and arrive at last, by 
an illusion, at the same indifference which the people 
attain by their stupidity, and true philosophers by their 
moderate scepticism. They need only say that any phe- 
nomenon which puzzles them arises from a ' faculty' or an 
* occult quality,' and there is an end of all dispute and 
enquiry upon the matter." (Hum. Nat., i., pp. 383-391.) 
Hume was far too penetrating a thinker not to have 
been aware that the same way of reasoning, by which it 

9 



130 



SUBSTANCE. 



was to be shown that no substances existed in external 
nature, would with equal force annihilate the thinking 
subject, the I, considered as a person or unit, leaving the 
so-called self a mere aggregation of successive thoughts, 
feelings, perceptions, and other data of consciousness. If 
there are no things without us, except colours, tastes, 
sounds, and the like, there is no self to apprehend these 
colours, etc., but only the thoughts and feelings which do 
in fact successively apprehend them. This view he sets 
forth with his usual graceful clearness, and good-humoured 
enjoyment of the perplexities into which he throws his 
unfortunate readers. 

"There are some philosophers, " says Hume, "who 
imagine we are every moment intimately conscious of 
what we call our self; that we feel its existence and its 
continuance in existence ; and are certain, beyond the 
evidence of a demonstration, both of its perfect identity 
and simplicity. The strongest sensation, the most violent 
passion, say they, instead of distracting us from this view, 
only fix it the more intensely, and make us consider their 
influence on self either by their pain or pleasure. To at- 
tempt a further proof of this, were to weaken its evidence ; 
since no proof can be derived from any fact, of which we 
are so intimately conscious ; nor is there anything of 
which we can be certain, if we doubt of this. 

"Unluckily, all these positive assertions are contrary to 
that very experience which is pleaded for them, nor have 
we any idea of self, after the manner it is here explained. 
For, from what impression could this idea be derived ? 
This question it is impossible to answer without a manifest 
contradiction and absurdity ; and yet it is a question which 
must necessarily be answered, if we would have the idea 
of self pass for clear and intelligible. It must be some one 
impression that gives rise to every real idea. But sell' or 



SUBSTANCE. 131 

person is not any one impression, but that to which our 
several impressions and ideas are supposed to have a 
reference. If any impression gives rise to the idea of 
self, that impression must continue invariably the same 
through the whole course of our lives ; since self is sup- 
posed to exist after that manner. But there is no impres- 
sion constant and invariable. Pain and pleasure, grief 
and joy, passions and sensations, succeed each other, and 
never all exist at the same time. It cannot therefore be 
from any of these impressions, or from any other, that the 
idea of self is derived ; and consequently there is no such 
idea 

" For my part, when I enter most intimately into what 
I call myself, I always stumble on some particular per- 
ception or other, of heat or cold, light or shade, love or 
hatred, pain or pleasure. I never can catch myself at any 
time without a perception, and never can observe anything 
but the perception. ... If any one, upon serious and un- 
prejudiced reflection, thinks he has a different notion of 
himself, I must confess I can reason no longer with him. 
All I can allow him is, that he may be in the right as well 
as I, and that we are essentially different in this particu- 
lar. He may perhaps perceive something simple and con- 
tinued, which he calls himself', though I am certain there 
is no such principle in me. 

" But, setting aside some metaphysicians of this kind, I 
may venture to afnrm of the rest of mankind, that they 
are nothing but a bundle or collection of different percep- 
tions which succeed one another with an inconceivable 
rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux and movement. Our 
eyes cannot turn in their sockets without varying their 
perceptions. Our thought is still more variable than our 
sight ; and all our other senses and faculties contribute to 
this change; nor is there any single power of the soul, 



132 SUBSTANCE. 

which remains unalterably the same, perhaps for one- 
moment. The mind is a kind of theatre, where several 
perceptions successively make their appearance, pass, re- 
pass, glide away, and mingle in an infinite variety of 
postures and situations. There is properly no simplicity in 
it at one time, nor identity in different ; whatever natural 
propension we may have to imagine that simplicity and 
identity. The comparison of the theatre must not mislead 
us. They are the successive perceptions only, that consti- 
tute the mind ; nor have we the most distant notion of the 
place where those scenes are represented, or of the materials 
of which it is composed" (Hum. Nat. i., pp. 436-440). 

I have ventured upon these extracts, long as they are, 
because I believe there is expressed in them precisely the 
true state of the question, as it presents itself to those 
philosophers who ignore or reject the authority of primary 
beliefs. Hume, it will be seen, is really, though perhaps not 
in terms, a philosophical Unitarian. Accommodating his 
language by turns to those who believe matter and those 
who believe mind to exist, he speaks first of "sensible quali- 
ties " and afterwards of "perceptions ;" but in reality it is 
evident that these two are in his estimation one and the 
same thing. One is apt to speak of colours, sounds, and 
the like, as if they were somehow gcnerically different 
from passions and feelings ; but, once deny substance to 
one and the other, and this distinction becomes unintel- 
ligible ; they may differ, indeed, but it is only as a colour 
differs from a sound, or as red from green : if any wider 
difference is postulated, this must be a mere matter of 
convenience in classifying : that which to the popular 
mind constitutes the essential difference between a colour 
and a passion — viz., that the former comes from without 
and the hitler springs from within the self — has been 
eliminated. 



SUBSTANCE. 133 

This negation of substance is the doctrine likewise of 
Brown and of James Mill. According to Brown, what we 
call bodies "are one, not in nature but in thought ; as one 
thousand individuals, that in nature must always be one 
thousand, receive a sort of unity that is relative merely to 
our conception, when ranked by us as a single regiment, 
or as many regiments become one by forming together an 
army" (§ i. 96. 1 See also Cause and Effect, 172, 184). 
Mr. Mill is equally emphatic. According to this philo- 
sopher, our ideas of individual objects are neither more 
nor less than clusters or aggregates of our ideas of qual- 
ities. The simultaneous or " synchronical " existence 
before our minds of a determinate mixture of red colours, 
of a certain odour, of a softness to the touch, and so on, 
constitutes an aggregate to which I am pleased to give the 
name of, suppose, a rose. "But what is the rose," he asks, 
"" beside the colour, the form, and so on ? Not knowing 
what it is, but supposing it to be something, we invent a 
name to stand for it. We call it a substratum. This sub- 
stratum, when closely examined, is not distinguishable 
from Cause. It is the cause of the qualities ; that is, the 
cause of the causes of our sensations." (Anal. i. 262, 263.) 

Mr. Mill admits that his doctrine is at variance with 
the opinion of men in general. "The term quality or 
qualities of an object," he says, "seems to imply that the 
qualities are one thing, the object another. And this, in 
some indistinct way, is no doubt the opinion of the great 
majority of mankind. Yet the absurdity of it strikes the 
understanding the moment it is mentioned. The qualities 

1 In the speculations concerning Substance, with which Dr. Brown com- 
mences the course of metaphysics in his lectures, there seems to be a confusion 
between chemical and metaphysical analysis. The question for the metaphy- 
sician is not, of what particles is this or that body ultimately composed, or, 
what are the properties of those particles, taken singly or conjointly, but, how 
have I come by the notion that these various and dissimilar impressions, of 
.colour, weight, hardness, etc., all belong to a substance or body which is one. 



134 SUBSTANCE.; 

of an object are the whole of the object. What is there 
beside the qualities ? In fact, they are convertible terms :. 
the qualities are the object, and the object is the qualities." 
(lb. ii., p. 53.) 

3Ir. John Stuart Mill, in a cautious and well-considered 
article on this subject, contents himself with summing up 
the principal arguments for and against the existence of 
substances, though without suspecting, apparently, that it 
might be possible, on the affirmative side, to contend that 
substance is something other than the mere cause. "A 
body," he says, "may be defined, the external cause to 
which we ascribe our sensations" (Logic, Book i., chap. 3, 
§ 6). And the question under controversy is, in his view,, 
simply this — whether such external causes exist or not. 

This may suffice to illustrate the position taken up by 
the writers of the sensationalist school, with reference to 
the doctrine of substance and attribute. This scepticism, 
which from the vantage ground of philosophical insight 
smiles with good-humoured contempt at the odd illusions 
to which the vast majority of mankind appear subject, is 
the inevitable consequence of the disregard of primary 
beliefs. 

For us, however, the question is one to be approached 
from an entirely different point of view, even as regards 
the arrangement of its terms. 

The point first to be considered is this — What is in 
fact the belief of the human race concerning substances :. 
secondly, can this belief be explained away, or otherwise 
got rid of, as illusory ; failing which, if we find it to be a 
belief universal and primary, we shall be compelled to 
conclude that the thing believed is true. 

First, as to the matter of fact : men believe, in all coun- 
tries, and have believed, as far back as the structure of any 
known language records, in the existence of that which is 



SUBSTANCE. 135 

denoted by nouns substantive : this appears to be proved 
from the fact that they have invented such nouns, and 
have been using them so long and so generally. The 
things which they have seen, tasted, touched, or otherwise 
come into contact with through their senses, have, without 
a single exception, been styled adjectives : in other words 
have been annexed to substantives, of which they are 
regarded as mere qualities — whatever that may mean. 
That of which they are qualities is a something which no 
human eye has seen, no touch encountered. 

To say this is in fact only repeating in a different form 
what was said in the preceding chapter. Men believe that, 
in perception, the two spheres of mind and matter come 
into a species of juxtaposition — that the one impinges upon 
the other. The existence of this belief supposes that, in 
addition to the sensible perceptions themselves, men have 
a belief or notion that there exist likewise these two 
spheres — mind and matter. If it can be proved to us ever 
so clearly that the only things of which we are or can be 
directly conscious at first hand, are the perceptions and 
feelings — i.e. the presentations or data of consciousness 
itself — and that our possible knowledge is limited to these 
and to inferences deducible from these — so that the ex- 
istence of a substratum, whether material or mental, shall 
be shown to lie outside of all our possible knowledge — so 
much the more clearly will emerge this unexplained fact, 
that men universally believe in such substrata or substances. 
It may possibly be demonstrated that the belief has no 
external foundation : but, if the belief survive that demon- 
stration, its vitality proves that it has a foundation in the 
fabric of our own minds. 

When I hold in my hand a red billiard-ball, and look 
at it, I receive three distinct sensible impressions — I see a 
red colour, I touch a smooth rounded surface, and I am 



136 



SUBSTANCE. 



conscious of a determinate weight. These three impres- 
sions are perfectly distinct from one another. These three 
together make up the whole of what I learn by immediate 
presentation concerning this billiard-ball ; for we may here 
disregard, as complicating without aiding the argument, 
those muscular sensations which physiologists have recently 
deduced or attempted to deduce from the contractions or 
expansions of the pupil of the eye, or from the phenomena 
of double vision. For practical purposes, these three — the 
colour, the smoothness, and the weight — may be taken 
to represent the presentations which I attribute to my 
billiard-ball. 

These three dissimilar data I regard, and cannot but 
regard, as belonging to one thing, which is external to, 
and exists independently of, my self: and I also, from 
another point of view, regard them as belonging to one 
and the same thing, namely, as all being perceptions of 
that thinking or perceiving unit, my self. 

Another fact to be noted is this — that I place the phe- 
nomena at an equal distance, so to speak, from these two 
unities. I am unable to say that colour, for example, 
belongs more properly to the object than to the perceiving- 
mind, or vice versa ; and so of smoothness, and so of weight. 
These, which we may call the phenomena of perception, 
appear, from one point of view, to result from a power in 
the object to excite certain impressions in us, and, from 
another point of view, to be the effect of a receptivity or 
susceptibility, in the mind itself, to receive such particular 
kinds of impression and no other. 

To return to the billiard-ball. If I believe this ball to 
be one thing, I also believe that one thing to be related to 
the colour not more or less closely nor in any other respect 
differently than it is related to the smoothness, or than it 
is related to the Weight. It is something which, so to speak, 



SUBSTANCE. 137 

underlies all three in the same manner. But the three 
phenomena themselves are recognized by me as diverse, 
having in themselves no community even of kind. That 
common meeting- ground, the substance of which these are 
attributes, must, then, be a thing in itself, not a mere 
aggregation of the three phenomena. And this seems to 
be an opinion which the mind cannot really divest itself 
of. It seems outrageous to our unmetaphysical common 
sense, when we are told that so much redness, so much 
smoothness, and so much weight, added together, are a 
billiard-ball. Yet this is what Mr. James Mill maintains, 
when he sa3 r s "the attributes are the substance." 

Such, then, appears to be, in fact, the belief of mankind 
concerning substance. We come now to the second ques- 
tion : Can this belief be explained away, as derivative, and 
so, or otherwise, possibly illusory ? 

The peculiar relation of the many phenomena to the one 
thing in itself, which we term the relation of quality and 
substance, is not, I think, the artificial invention of the 
schoolmen ; further than that the schoolmen, or older 
metaphysicians, may have first given a name to that 
which had previously existed in and operated upon men's 
minds, without their knowing why. The relation of sub- 
stance and attribute was virtually recognized by the first 
man who gave names to objects : he recognized a unity 
underlying the diversity of appearance ; and the bare 
notion of this unity beneath the manifold appears neces- 
sarily to involve either this, or some such notion of a 
relation between attribute and substance. 

Can it be said that the notion of substance is produced 
by mere "association of ideas," founded on the fact that 
the several phenomena which the mind binds together as 
belonging to one substance, do, and always have, come 
before the mind simultaneously ? 



138 SUBSTANCE. 

This is a favourite doctrine with the sensationalists, and 
must therefore be considered with some care. 

It no doubt is true that one reason why the mind ap- 
propriates such or such individual percepts to one and the 
same substance, is, their coming one in company with 
another, and their being remembered as having kept this 
companionship constantly. It may be that the empirical 
conception of substance and attributes, as existing with 
reference to this or that particular object-matter, is one of 
gradual growth in the mind, proceeding piece-meal in the 
way of induction. But, in order that the mind, from 
repeated observation of this constant concomitance of cer- 
tain phenomena, should proceed to the synthetic or am- 
pliative notion that the things which thus approach it in 
companionship are attributes of one common substance, it 
appears to be necessary that the notion of substance itself, 
as an a priori notion, belief, or form of thought, should 
have pre-existed within the mind. Were it not so, it 
woidd seem impossible to account for the inference, from 
the obscured fact of concomitance, to the peculiar relation 
of substance and attribute ; still more, for the universality 
of this inference on the part of the entire human race. 
That two or more things should be so linked together as 
invariably to come and go before the mind in company, 
would show indeed that they were fellow-travellers, but by 
no means (were we not specially framed so as to draw this 
inference) that they all were so many qualities of one and 
the same substratum or substance. This is an ampliative, 
not an explicative judgment : it brings in some new mat- 
ter, not contained in the terms of the propositions which 
lead to it. 

It is to be noted that the "concomitance" here spoken 
of is a different tiling from juxtaposition in space. A 
smooth touch and a red eolour may no doubt bo present to 



SUBSTANCE. 139 

the senses at the same moment : and this particular touch, 
and this particular disposition of colour, may be remem- 
bered to have always come in company with each other as 
regards time : but when we pretend that the two percepts 
are in juxtaposition with one another in space, we say that 
which is absolutely unmeaning, except in the way of in- 
ference from the judgment, which must previously have 
been formed, that the two percepts are connected together 
as belonging to one and the same object. Till I have thus 
connected together, by a judgment, the red colour and the 
smooth touch, I do not even understand what is meant by 
the assertion that the two phenomena occupy the same 
space. The coincidence of two percepts, belonging to 
different senses, is, then, solely a coincidence with re- 
ference to time. 

Now, that coincidence in time is not the cause of our 
belief in the law of substance — though it may be the em- 
pirical occasion of this belief's being evolved with reference 
to some individual objects — demonstrably appears from 
this, that we have the belief in a substance, with regard to 
which such coincidence in time not only does not always, 
but never exists — -viz., the perceiving substance, or ego. 
Subjectively considered, our percepts, emotions, thoughts, 
and in a word acts of mind, follow one another, and never 
are simultaneous : yet we bring the whole stream with its 
incessant changes into unity, regarding all as so many acts 
of one and the same substance, the self. 

When once we have distinctly recognized the fact that 
we never come into direct mental contact with that mys- 
terious force or essence which we call our self — that what 
we call self-introspection is in reality the mere appercep- 
tion of a certain number of isolated acts or energies which 
this essence puts forth — we see at once that we have no 
ground whatever for thinking that a self exists, except 



140 SUBSTANCE. 

that we are assured so by a belief, which, as inexplicable, 
simple, and universal, must be regarded as a primary fact 
of our nature. It appears, indeed, to be a portion of a 
still more general fact or law of mind — viz., that law by 
which we ascribe all phenomena, outward as well as in- 
ward, to certain substances. This law, in its generality, 
may be termed, the law or primary belief of substance. 

If this is a primary belief, as it appears to be when tried 
by the tests enumerated above, we are bound, on the prin- 
ciples here laid down, to accept the conclusion that the 
thing so believed is true : in other words, that there is a 
universe of matter, and that there is a universe of mind. 
And thus we are brought a second time to Hamilton's 
Natural Dualism. 

Let us now for a moment look back over the ground we 
have travelled : — 

The way in which we have been led to the doctrine of 
Natural Dualism (or Realism), so far as regards the doc- 
trine of substance, appears to have been this : — We are 
conscious of presentations which have differences : of these 
presentations, we attribute some portions or attributes to 
the activity of a self, and the remainder to the operation of 
forces external to the self : why we do this we cannot tell, 
but it is the fact that we do so ; and, when we come to 
reflect on what we have been doing, we see that we have 
all along been assuming the existence of these twofold 
substances, a self and a not-self, although our senses never 
reached so far, nor yet our internal presentations, as 
directly to apprehend the existence of cither. The belief 
in this unknown something, therefore, lias existed in us, 
and been operative, before we were conscious of it. 

This new of the matter enables us easily to emancipate 
ourselves from that scepticism of Professor Fcrrier, which 
was referred to in the Introduction. The Professor would 



SUBSTANCE. 141 

have us believe that there is a self and a not-self, but that 
it is impossible for us accurately, or, indeed, at all, to dis- 
tinguish, amongst the data of consciousness, what portions 
belong to the one and what to the other. Certainly the 
two portions are in many particulars intimately blended 
together. Still, we appear to possess a certain instinctive 
faculty, by which we can, at any rate to some extent, dis- 
tinguish between the two. When I am conscious, for 
example, of an act of will, I at the same time believe, and 
cannot but believe, that it is an act of my own. When my 
will, without being changed, is hindered from passing into 
action, I believe, and cannot but believe, that the thing 
which hinders it is something other than myself. In fact, 
it is because I have this instinct or belief, and from no 
other cause, that I am led to think I know that there exists 
a self and a not-self. That which, in the order of time, 
evolves the belief that my self exists, is the fact that I have 
been attributing this or that datum of consciousness to the 
activity of my self. To say that the belief which is thus 
evolved is trustworthy, and yet that the belief which has 
been the occasion of evolving it is untrustworthy, and this 
without pointing out any difference between the characters 
of the two beliefs, appears purely gratuitous. It is very 
much as if, because I suppose myself to see a red colour, I 
were to conclude that the red colour certainly is there, but 
that I cannot be certain that I see it. The first certainty 
depends on, and is bounded by, the second. Assuming 
that my sole ground of knowledge concerning the red 
colour is my seeming to see it, whatever doubtfulness there 
may be as to my really seeing it, there must be at least as 
much doubtfulness as to its really being there. So of the 
self and the non-self: all that I know concerning the exist- 
ence of a self being derived in the way of inference from 
the instinct with which I appropriate to myself certain 



142 SUBSTANCE. 

portions of my consciousness, it follows that, if the instinct 
itself is illusory, the inference drawn from it must fall to 
the ground. 

Mr. Hansel, in his " Philosophy of Consciousness," 
appears to draw a distinction between our belief in sub- 
stances external to the self, and what he calls our direct 
consciousness of the self, which I must confess myself un- 
able to comprehend. 

"Let system- makers," he writes, "say what they will, 
the unsophisticated sense of mankind refuses to acknow- 
ledge that mind is but a bundle of states of consciousness, 
as matter is (possibly) a bundle of sensible qualities. There 
may be no material substratum distinct from the attributes 
of extension, figure, colour, hardness, etc. Matter may be 
merely a name for the aggregate of these, for we have no 
immediate consciousness of anything beyond them ; but, 
unless our whole consciousness is a delusion and a lie, self 
is something more than the aggregate of sensations, 
thoughts, volitions, etc." (p. 181). 

How are we to reconcile this way of reasoning with the 
following sentence, which may be found on the preceding- 
page of the same volume ? — " The attributes of mind, as 
well as those of body, are known only by their effects. I 
know that I have the power of thinking, only because I 
actually think, — as I know that fire is capable of burning, 
only because it actually burns." (p. 180.) 

Is it the fact that the "unsophisticated sense of man- 
kind " revolts strongly against the negation of substance 
as applied to mind, and does not revolt strongly against 
the negation of substance as applied to matter ? It seems 
admitted on all hands — it is evidenced in the very struc- 
ture of language — that the unsophisticated belief of man- 
kind in all ages has been this: — Mind exists: material 
pbjecte likewise' exist ; colours, tastes, tactual impressions, 



SUBSTANCE. 143 

and the like, are as truly qualities of bodies when viewed 
in one aspect, as they are attributes or faculties of mind, 
viewed in another. Without attempting explicitly to deny 
that such is the belief of mankind, Mr. Mansel holds that, 
as regards matter, this belief may possibly be illusory, 
because "we have no immediate consciousness " of material 
substance ; yet that, as regards mind, this belief cannot be 
illusory, although we have no immediate -consciousness of 
the substance of the mind — for this last concession is cer- 
tainly contained, though under a different form of words, 
in the sentences quoted from p. 180 of his book. 



141 



CHAPTEE Y. 

'SPACE AXD TIME. 

"What is Space ? 

It is the misfortune of philosophy, that its problems are 
matters which appear to the mass of mankind excessively- 
simple. Philosophers expend immense labour and in- 
genuity in giving an account of that which other men are 
continually taking as a matter of course ; and, what is 
worse, the philosophers appear to account for it very 
unsatisfactorily. 

Every one, for example, believes that he has a veiy clear 
opinion as to what space is, and that the matter is too 
plain to admit of doubt. The first person I meet in the 
street, if I put the question to him, would probably tell 
me : Space is that which all material substances, which 
the earth and the whole universe of solar systems, occupy 
without filling. Can we conceive the possibility of a 
world's existing without space — nay, of Nothing's existing 
without space : in other words, can we conceive space as 
possibly annihilated ? Certainly not, he would answer. 
Can we set limits to space — can we conceive or think that 
space has boundaries anywhere ? The supposition, he 
would unhesitatingly reply, is absurd. 

There are questions, however, if I were to pursue the 
enquiry, to which my friend in the street would not be so 
prompt in his answers. For example: Is space a quality 
of the mind, or a properly of the objects which are appro- 



SPACE AND TIME. 145 

bended by the senses, or a thing external to the mind and 
existing not in objects but of itself? Apparently no one 
thinks that space is a quality of the mind. Bodies, we 
say, are in space : they occupy or take up room ; they 
have a place — and that place we consider as a portion of 
space. Whether mind occupies space, we scarcely can tell. 
While I am thinking, I confess that I believe myself to be 
thinking somewhere, i.e. in some place : I fancy that the 
thinking process is somehow going on within my own 
bodily frame ; and it seems to me that other people do so 
too : but it never enters my head to say that thoughts 
take up room — that they occupy any quantity of space. 
Whether either one portion or the other of this belief of 
mine be well founded, I cannot tell : there seems to be no 
way of verifying or contradicting it : the reader will judge 
for himself whether he shares it. Holding it, however, it 
appears to me that the having a place, and the occupying 
or filling up of space, are two distinct and separable con- 
ceptions; of which the first is common to matter and 
mind, but the second peculiar to matter. Space, then, if 
this be so, belongs to matter, not to mind. Is Space, then, 
a quality of matter ? Apparently not : for, if the matter 
be removed, the space remains behind ; besides, matter 
does not fill up the whole of space, but space is thought to 
extend beyond it. Matter is finite and contingent : space 
is infinite and necessary: the more extensive cannot be 
contained in, i.e. cannot be a quality of, the less extensive. 
Shall we say, then, that space is a thing existing, ex- 
ternally to the mind, but existing not in objects but 
independently by itself ? To this we seem driven, if we 
say that it exists, that it is not in the mind but external 
to it, and that it is not a quality of material objects. But 
now comes the question — this thing, external to us and 
independent of the bodies we see or touch or otherwise 

10 



146 SPACE AND TIME. 

encounter by our senses, how do we know that it exists ? 
through what avenue has the knowledge come to us ? It 
does not come through perception or self-intuition ; we 
cannot see or touch it, taste, smell, or hear it. Yet the 
matter of fact remains — everybody without exception has 
the notion of space. Where has it come from ? 

At this point I am afraid that our friend picked up in 
the street will be apt to grow impatient,, and to refer us to 
our books of metaphysics. 

Let us turn, then, to our metaphysicians. I am afraid 
I must pass over the sensationalists, whose explanations 
have been reduced ad absurdum by Hume, and now must 
be regarded as obsolete. 1 \Yhen once the fact is fairly 
recognized, that space is regarded as necessarily existing 
and as infinite, one sees at a glance that the notion of it 
cannot be obtained by abstraction or isolation of some 
common property belonging to objects which are con- 
tingent and finite. We must listen to Kant, Cousin, 
Hamilton, and Hansel. 

In order really to understand the celebrated doctrine of 
Kant, that space is the "pure form" of intuition, as dis- 
tinguished from the matter or empirical contents of it, we 
ought to lay aside for the time all realistic notions con- 
cerning the objective existence of a material world, and to 

1 Hume's disquisitions on this subject (sec Human Nature, vol. i., pp. 65- 
100) are, however, extremely interesting, and it is not without reluctance that 
1 refrain from quotation and criticism. Hume pushes the leading doctrine of 
],; s school— viz., that every idea, that is, every notion, must be the counter- 
part of some Impression (intuition) — to its legitimate conclusion, and infers 
from it that we can think no quality of space which transcends experience. 
Hence we cannot conceive space as infinitely divisible : there is a minimum of 

thinkable space, which answers to the minimum visibUe, The definition of a 

mathematical point is consequently absurd and unintelligible : the tiling uot 

only cannot be, it cannot even be thought. The same reasoning would shov\ 
that Space not only cannot be infinite, but cannot be thought to lie so. Hume 

acknowledges, however, that space is in fact thought under conditions which 
may transcend « iperience : from which perverse tendency in the human mind 
lie of course draws food f"i- his scepticism. 



SPACE AND TIME. 147 

place ourselves at the point of yiew from which an idealist 
like Kant would look at the question. 

For this purpose, we are to suppose a self or intelligence 
which apprehends the presence of a number of phenomena, 
such as colours, sounds, and tactual impressions : what these 
are in themselves, he (the supposed self) does not care to 
inquire ; what concerns him is that they are isolated, con- 
tingent, and apparently given to the mind from without, 
not self-engendered. He finds also that these phenomena 
are distributed in space. Space, however, is not given to 
him from without : it comes through no known avenue, it 
transcends the conditions of all knowledge derived through 
the senses. He concludes, then, that it is he himself who 
distributes these phenomena in space. Space is a law of 
his own being : it is the canvass upon which he himself 
spreads the colours which are given to him through the 
consciousness. Here comes in the distinction between form 
and matter, familiar to logicians. " The Form is what the 
mind impresses upon its perceptions of things, which are 
the matter ; Form therefore means mode of viewing objects 
that are presented to the mind, the objects themselves being 
the matter/' l The block of marble given to the sculptor 
is the matter ; that which he himself contributes, in hew- 
ing the statue out of it, is the form. Perhaps a better 
illustration of the distinction may be found in the growth 
of substances which have their principle of vitality — the 
formative principle — within themselves. Those particles 
of nutriment which are supplied in the earth, and are 
absorbed by the acorn as it lies there, and afterwards by 
the roots it sends forth, are (with the acorn itself) the 
matter which by degrees is converted into the oak tree ; 
the form of the tree — the disposition of its branches, the 
shape of its leaves, and the like, are the result of a forma- 
1 Thomson's Laws of Thought, p. 21. 



148 SPACE AND TIME. 

tive principle which existed a priori within the acorn 
before it began to swell and grow. The human mind, on 
its entrance upon life, is in a condition analogous to that 
of the acorn when it begins to have stirrings of vitality 
within the ground. The variegated mass of isolated im- 
pressions of colours, touches, and the like, which are suc- 
cessively absorbed into the mind, are spread by it, in virtue 
of a law which the mind already carries unconsciously 
within itself, upon this — call it canvass, if you will, or 
spectrum of a camera — at any rate upon this field of men- 
tal vision pre-existent within the mind itself — to which 
we give the name of space. 

Space, then, according to Kant, is the form of external 
intuition. This theory gets rid of some of the difficulties 
which have been alluded to. Space, on this view, may be 
infinite : for we do not know that the forms of our own 
mental faculties are finite, or are limited in such a manner 
as only to apprehend the finite. Again, space, on this 
view, not only may, but must, be conceived as existing 
necessarily : its contradictory must be inconceivable to the 
human mind ; for it is evident that if our mental appre- 
hension be cast in a given form, it can have no power to 
conceive or grasp notions or intuitions after some other 
form, inconsistent with that which has been assigned to it. 

Kant's theory gives us, then, the infinity and necessity 
of space ; and to that extent is in harmony with the 
general belief of mankind. Is it, however, in harmony — 
is it not incompatible with another portion of this general 
belief — a portion as distinctly stamped upon the non- 
metaphysical minds of all men — viz., that space exists, 
not within ourselves, but externally to, and independently 
of, ourselves P 

According to Kant, one great proof' of the position that 
space is a form contributed by the mind itself, is this : we 



SPACE AND TIME. 149 

ourselves first begin to assign to phenomena a place ex- 
ternal to ourselves, that is, in space ; which we could not 
do, if we had not already within ourselves the intuition of 
space as existing. "Space," he says, "is not a conception 
which has been derived from outward experiences. For, 
in order that certain sensations may relate to something 
without me, that is, to something which occupies a different 
part of space from that in which I am — and again, in order 
that I may represent them not merely as out of me and 
near to each other, but also in separate places — the repre- 
sentation of space must already exist as a foundation : con- 
sequently, the representation of space cannot be borrowed 
from the relations of external phenomena through ex- 
perience ; but, on the contrary, this external experience is 
itself only possible through that antecedent representation." 
(Pure Reason, Part I., § 2). This seems perfectly true, so 
far as it goes. May we not, however, go on a little fur- 
ther, and enquire ichy is it that the mind does in this 
fashion spread out certain portions of its data of conscious- 
ness in places external to itself and side by side with one 
another ? Is it not because the mind first believes that 
the objects themselves are external to itself and side by 
side with one another — in other words, are in space ? Is 
there not an innate, though no doubt latent or but half- 
conscious, belief ; which belief may be considered as a form 
of intuition, perhaps, but also as something more than a 
form ? This belief seems to be more than a form, inas- 
much as it has contents — i.e. matter contained in it. 
These are points which have to be considered presently : 
in the meantime let us proceed with our consultation of 
the authorities. 

Neither Cousin nor Mansel add much to Kant. Cousin, 
in his Lectures on the Philosophy of Kant (Lect. 4, pp. 
43-52), and again in his review of Locke on the Under- 



150 SPACE AND TIME. 

standing (chap. ii. pp. 130-144), gives a very clear ex- 
position of the Kantian doctrine, which he appears to 
adopt to a certain extent. He distinguishes, however, the 
relative priority of empirical perception and of the a priori 
representation of space, according as we are concerned 
with the logical or the chronological order of sequence. 
On this head it may be well to quote his own words : — 

" There are two sorts of origin : there are, in human 
cognitions, two orders of relations which it is important 
clearly to distinguish. Two ideas being given, we may 
inquire whether the one does not suppose the other ; whe- 
ther, the one being admitted, we must not admit the other 
likewise, or incur the reproach of inconsistency. This is 

the " logical order" of ideas It is at this point that 

the ideal school has in general taken up the question of the 
origin of ideas. By the origin of ideas, they commonly 
understand the logical filiation of ideas. Hence they could 
say, with their last and most illustrious interpreter, that so 
far is the idea of body from being the foundation of the 
idea of space, it is the idea of space which is the foundation 
— the logical condition — of the idea of body. The idea of 
body is given to us by the sight and the touch, that is, by 
experience of the senses. On the contrary, the idea oi* 
space is given to us, on occasion of the idea of body, by the 
understanding, the mind, the reason ; in fine, by a faculty 
other than sensation. Hence the formula of Kant ; the 
pure rational idea of space comes so little from experience 
that it is the condition of all experience. This bold formula 
holds true with perfect strictness when taken in a certain 
reference, — in reference to the logical order of human 
cognitions." (Review of Locke, pp. 136, 137). 

There is, however, M. Cousin proceeds to point out, 
another order of precedence amongst ideas, viz., the chro- 
nological order, the order in respect of time of their several 



£PACE AND TIME. 151 

development within the consciousness. Chronologically, 
the idea of body precedes, and awakens, the idea of space. 
" Space is the place of bodies ; he who has no idea of a 
body will never have the idea of the space which contains 
it." .,...'" Logically, idealism and Kant are right, in 
maintaining that the pure idea of space is the condition of 
the idea of body, and of experience : chronologically, 
empiricism and Locke are right in their turn, in holding 
up experience^ that is, on this point, sensation, the sensa- 
tions of sight and touch, as the condition of the idea of 
space, and of any exercise of the understanding." (ib. pp. 
137-139). 

In this fashion M. Cousin proposes to effect a species of 
compromise between Kant and Locke, or rather to harmo- 
nize the two within a more comprehensive doctrine, in con- 
formity with the watchword of his philosophical system, 
Eclecticism. 

Mr. Mansel, in his "Philosophy of Consciousness" (pp. 
59-63), sums up with much clearness and conciseness the 
results of Kant's doctrine as modified by Cousin ; but it 
can hardly be said that he has added anything of his own. 
Space he holds to be " the form or mental condition of our 
perception of external objects." Space is regarded by the 
mind as necessarily existing and as infinite : it cannot by 
itself be depicted to the imagination : it transcends the 
limits of experience. He terms it a relation — a dictum, 
which I confess I do not altogether understand, nor know 
how to reconcile with other portions of his doctrine. He 
differs from Cousin, holding space to be chronologically 
"in some degree," as well as logically, prior to the objects 
of sense. " Space," he says, " though not positively con- 
ceived as devoid of all contents, is yet necessarily conceived 
as separable from any given contents, and thus as inde- 
pendent of each in succession." Space, in fine, is "the 



152 SPACE AND TIME. 

innate element of the ideas of sense which experience calls- 
into actual consciousness/' He notes, what has been over- 
looked, if not denied, 1 by previous writers, that the em- 
pirical intuition of space is not limited to perceptions of 
sight and touch, but extends to other senses, and perhaps 
to all of them ; e.g. to percepts of sounds ; an important 
observation, though bearing only on a matter of detail. 

Before passing on to an examination of Sir W. Hamilton's, 
doctrine, it may be well here to set down a question, which 
the Kantian theory naturally suggests — namely : Do Re- 
presentations occupy space ? When I recal or reproduce 
in my mind, by memory or imagination, one of those 
quasi-pictorial images of an object of sense, to which we 
have agreed to give the name of " representation," it seems 
to me that in this operation I do not travel outside of the 
sphere of self — there is present to me nothing but an act of 
my own mind — and yet there is before me a datum of 
consciousness, made up of parts which appear in a manner 
to lie side by side of one another. This seems to raise a 
difficult}', on Kant's theory of space, whichever way we 
may answer the question. If Representations do not 
occupy space, then we cannot accept the second member of 
Kant's proposition quoted above — namely : " In order that 
I may represent phenomena not merely as without of and 
near to each other, but also in separate places, the idea of 
space must already exist as a foundation." Kant's dictum 
here imports that, if I conceive two objects, no matter 
what, as being outside of one another and so in separate 
places, my doing so is the logical result of my having pre- 
viously had the conception of space. But why ? Evidently 
because we can only think of two objects as thus situated 
with respect to one another, by thinking them to be in 

1 Ex, (jr. by Reid, who positively denies thai the Idea of space is conveyed 

ii any of the senses except sight and touch. 



SPACE AND TIME. 153 

space. If, however, there are two objects — e.g. two por- 
tions of one image or representation, which can be con- 
ceived as outside of one another, lying as it were side by 
side, and which can yet be conceived as not occupying 
space, this argument falls to the ground. If it is possible 
to conceive two contiguous objects not occupying space, 
the notion of space is not necessarily involved in the con- 
ception of contiguity and distinct locality : if the former is 
not necessarily involved in the latter, the one is not the 
logical condition of the other. It could not in that case 
be said that "the representation of space must already 
exist as a foundation." 

On the other hand, if we answer the question in the 
opposite way, affirming that representations do occupy space, 
we seem plunged into fresh difficulties. Space, then, is 
something which is within myself as much as external to 
myself. Mere remembering or imagining — a purely men- 
tal operation — can occupy space. If so, one does not 
understand why the notion of space should lead the mind 
to distribute its data, not merely in some space, but in 
spaces external to the self. Here we seem to come into 
collision with the first member of Kant's proposition. " In 
order that certain sensations may relate to something with- 
out me, that is, to something which occupies a different 
part of space from that in which I am .... the idea of 
space must already exist as a foundation." The existence 
within the mind of a representation of space would not 
account for this externality — this tendency to place certain 
phenomena outside of the self — if there were space within 
the self. We cannot, however, in Kant's opinion, as he 
says on the same page, "have an internal intuition of 
space." 

The difficulty suggested by this question may or may 
not have existed for Kant, despite his idealism ; he does 



154 SPACE AND TIME. 

not, however, appear to have noticed it ; but, for those 
who, with Hamilton, believe in the real duality of ex- 
istence, in mind and matter as two distinct spheres, actually 
impinging on one another, it seems at first a somewhat 
formidable one. The fuller investigation of it must be 
reserved until we have consulted Hamilton. 

" Our notion of space, " says Hamilton, " is not one which 
we derive exclusively from sense, — not one which is gene- 
ralized onty from experience ; for it is one of our necessary 
notions, — in fact, a fundamental condition of thought itself. 
The analysis of Kant, independently of all that has been 
done by other philosophers, has placed this truth beyond 
the possibility of doubt, to all those who understand the 
meaning and conditions of the problem . . . But, taking it 
for granted that the notion of space is native or a priori, 
and not adventitious or a posteriori, are we not at once 
thrown back into idealism? For, if extension itself be 
only a necessary mental mode, how can we make it a 
quality of external objects, known to us by sense ; or how 
can we contrast the outer world, as the extended, with the 
inner, as the unextended world ? To this difficulty I see only 
one possible answer : it is this : — It cannot be denied that 
space, as a necessary notion, is native to the mind; but 
does it follow that, because there is an a priori space, as a 
form of thought, we may not also have an empirical know- 
ledge of extension, as an element of existence ? The for- 
mer, indeed, may be only the condition through which the 
latter is possible. It is true that, if we did not possess the 
general and necessary notion of space anterior to, or as the 
condition of, experience, from experience we should never 
obtain more than a generalized and contingent notion of 
space. But there seems to me no reason to deny" [affirm ?] 
" that, because we have the one, we may not also have the 
other. If this be admitted, the whole difficulty is solved ; 



SPACE AND TIME. 155 

-and we may designate by the name of extension our em- 
pirical knowledge of space, and reserve the term space for 
space considered as a form or fundamental law of thought." 
(Lect. Met. vol. i. pp. 113, 114). 

This passage is followed by a few words which seem to 
imply an intention, on Hamilton's part, of following out 
the train of thought here suggested, in greater fulness, at 
some subsequent stage in his Lectures. It does not appear 
that that intention was ever carried out, which is much to 
be regretted, since Hamilton's meaning, as here expressed, 
seems to be somewhat vague. One may suspect that when 
he wrote this passage he had in his mind the notion of a 
distinction between space, as a form of thought, or as a 
thing believed in, and space as it is realized to the imagina- 
tion. On this latter subject there is a singular passage in 
his Lectures. If we endeavour, he tells us, to imagine 
space, there are two attributes of which we cannot divest 
it, and these are, shape and colour. " This," he says very 
frankly, " may appear ridiculous at first statement. 5 ' He 
proceeds, however, to establish his position by saying that, 
in the endeavour to imagine space, we must set out from a 
centre, and go on as long as we can carrying our sphere 
of imagined space outwards and outwards towards infinity. 
But, as this cannot be done at a single bound, but requires 
time, and time commensurate with the space to be thus 
run over by the mind, and as we have not infinite time at 
our disposal, we are obliged sooner or later to leave off. 
At the moment of leaving off, our imagined space, having 
been constructed by radiation from a centre, a process 
which we have no reason to push further on one side than 
another, must necessarily present the form of a sphere. 
Besides having this form, the image must likewise have 
some colour. We may take the palest and most neutral 
tint we please \ it may be white, or grey, or coloured like 



156 SPACE AND TIME. 

the sky, but colour of some kind, he tells us, it must have. 
He bids his hearers make the experiment for themselves, 
and they will find that he is correct." (Lectures, vol. ii. 
pp. 169-172). 

Now, if this be so, as very likely it is, the conclusion 
would seem to be, not merely that space cannot be ade- 
quately imagined, i.e. cannot be imagined so extensive in 
regard for example to its infinity as it is thought to be, — 
but that it cannot be imagined at all. We can imagine a 
vast coloured sphere, i.e. a thing which has colour and 
which has limits. But when we have done so, how can 
we say that we have imagined space ? In our image, two 
things only are presented to us — coloured matter, and its 
limits. We think space to have neither colour nor limits. 
It surely is not to imagine space, if we imagine something 
which, in every particular distinctly figured in that act, is 
different from space. 

On the whole, then, it appears that Hamilton has been 
more successful in showing that Kant's account of the 
matter is incomplete, than in substituting a better one of 
his own. 

From what has been said, incidentally, in criticising the 
opinions of previous writers, the view which it is here pro- 
posed to take as to the nature of space may to a great 
extent be anticipated. This view may be briefly summed 
up as follows : — 

Space is not a thing perceived, of itself, by any sense : 
it is not a percept : it is not an internal presentation. It 
cannot be imagined. It must be, then, either a form of 
thought, a notion, or an object of belief; or several or all 
of these conjointly. 

We have certain beliefs concerning space, which appear 
to be necessary and universal : if they are also simple, we 



SPACE AND TIME. 157 

must hold them to be primary beliefs, and must on that 
account accept the things believed as true. These beliefs 
are, that space exists externally to the mind ; that while 
our own intuitions, subjectively considered, do not occupy 
space, some of the objects of them do occupy space ; that 
the objects are in space, not space in the objects ; that the 
objects do not fill space, but, whereas they are limited, 
space itself is of infinite extent in the three directions of 
length, breadth, and solidity ; and, finally, that space exists 
of necessity — in other words, that its non-existence is 
inconceivable. 

That we have these beliefs, implies that we have the 
capacity for thinking, as it implies that we do in fact 
think, or form a notion of, space as existing in the manner 
here described. 

Anterior to the notion, or conscious thought, of space as 
thus existing, there must have been, within our minds yet 
unknown to us, a law or tendency, in virtue of which we 
have been compelled to frame this conception of space. 
This latent tendency may be called a form of thought. 

In virtue of this tendency, when objects are presented 
to the senses, we are constrained to distribute them and 
as it were set them side by side in space — i.e., in places 
external to ourselves. The tendency which obliges us to 
do this must not, however, be considered as simply the 
result of an inability of the mind to grasp and arrange and 
as it were take a collective view of multiplex data without 
the aid of this form of space. The mind is not to be com- 
pared to a painter, who cannot make his picture unless 
there be given to him canvas to spread it on. For, the 
mind has no such incapacity ; as may be learnt from the 
fact that it can bring up representations, or fancy-pictures, 
in which a multiplicity of dissimilar parts stand side by 
side as portions of one whole, without being supposed to 



158 SPACE AND TIME. 

occupy space. Were not the "form" of space something 
more than a mere incapacity to have intuitions except in 
space, the existence of that form within our minds would 
not lead us to assign to objects apprehended by the senses 
a place, or places, external to the mind itself. Thus it 
appears that a belief — or, to speak more accurately, a latent 
tendency from which upon occasion there is evolved a 
belief — in the externality of sensible objects, underlies the 
"form" of space. 

I could wish to believe that this explanation of the 
matter is that which was intended by Hamilton, in the 
passage cited above. It certainly appears to furnish a 
complete solution of the difficulty which he has there 
pointed out. But, as will be seen in a future chapter, this 
view cannot well be harmonized with Hamilton's favourite 
doctrine concerning "the unconditioned." 

Thus it appears that the existence of the thing to which 
we give the name of Space is made known to us solely by a 
primary belief, emplanted in the mind at its origin, latent 
in the first instance, but evolved upon occasion of its coming 
into contact, through perception, with external objects. 

What has here been written concerning Space will serve 
likewise, with very slight modifications, for Time. 

Time, according to Kant, is the pure form of internal, 
as space is of external, intuition. It is the place in which 
we arrange our acts or data of consciousness, subjectively 
considered. As thoughts and feelings are not supposed by 
us to occupy space, so neither do trees and rocks, objec- 
tively considered, occupy or fill up time. It is our mental 
act in perceiving these objects, not the objects themselves, 
to which we attach this limitation. In other words, time 
is not a form of external intuition, but of internal solely. 
It is to the self that which space is to the not-self. 



SPACE AND TIME. 159 

There is a distinction between time and duration, analo- 
gous to that between space and extension. Such or such a 
definite duration may be regarded as a quality of any one 
of our mental acts, and separable from the remainder of it 
by abstraction ; just as, by a similar act, we may separate 
in thought the extension which belongs to this or that 
external object. But time, of which this duration is a 
portion, cannot be conceived as a quality of the thought : 
for we can imagine the thought or mental act which has 
occupied it to be non-existent or annihilated, but we can- 
not conceive the annihilation of any portion of time. 
Time, like space, is believed to have existence independent 
of its contents, an existence infinite and necessary. 

Time, like space, is entirely unimaginable. " Five notes 
played on a flute," says Hume, "give us the impression 
and idea of time ; though time be not a sixth impression, 
which presents itself to the hearing or any other of the 
senses; nor is it a sixth impression which the mind by 
reflexion finds in itself." (Hum. Nat., i. 71.) If we try to 
imagine time, we find ourselves imagining a series of 
events which follow one another : we watch the beats of a 
pendulum, or count the tickings of a clock, or trace a long 
moving line, or recall the moving picture of our own past 
consciousness : in brief, we picture to ourselves objects 
which move, or through which we move : but that through 
which they move, though every such picturing implies its 
existence, cannot by itself be represented to our imagination, 
as there is no perception, and no internal presentation, to 
which it corresponds. 

With regard to time, as with space, we must carefullv 
distinguish these three things — time as a form of intuition, 
time as an object of thought, and time as an object of 
belief. 

It appears convenient to limit the employment of the 



160 SPACE AND TIME. 

term form, whether in dealing with forms of intuition or 
forms of thought, to the unconscious stage — to that stage 
in which its unconscious presence within the mind is 
secretly operative in moulding intuitions or thoughts after 
the preordained pattern ; and thus to distinguish it from 
the notion and from the belief which are subsequently 
evolved, when the form has, by aid of the suggestions 
furnished by presentations, and brought together under 
likeness and difference by the aid of representations, entered 
into the consciousness, and become itself the object of the 
mind's reflex attention. 

So long as we regard time as merely a form of intuition, 
we may very naturally hold ourselves entirely sceptical as 
to the objective existence of time, as a thing external to 
ourselves. The fact that we are only capable of receiving 
intuitions under the limitation of time, being a mere weak- 
ness or narrowness, or at any rate a mere condition, of our 
own mental action, proves nothing whatever as to existences 
external to ourselves. When once, however, we recognize 
time, not simply as a bare form, but as a form which by 
logical necessity involves a belief, operative although latent, 
then we are able to leave this scepticism behind us. We 
must extract the belief, and then, on the principles of our 
philosophy of primary beliefs, we may and must accept 
the thing believed as true. 

Our beliefs concerning time are very nearly identical, 
mutatis mutandis, with those concerning space. We believe, 
in the first place, that time exists, as an external reality, 
independently of our apprehending it. This belief is per- 
haps qoI quite so obtrusive and unequivocal as the corres- 
ponding belief with reference to space ; but it appears to 
be no Less really entertained by us. We believe that 
changes arc going on in the external world : that there 
had been a long process of organic growth and decay in 



SPACE AND TIME. 161 

the materials of which this globe is composed, probably for 
centuries before it was inhabited by a rational creature : 
we believe that these changes occupied time : and this be- 
lief is distinct from, and independent of, any belief we may 
hold concerning a creative Intelligence : we believe, then, 
that time has an existence independent of our own or any 
other intelligence. 

We believe, again, that events are in time, not time in 
events : that, while the events are or may be contingent, so 
that they may be thought as non-existent or as annihilated, 
the time which they had occupied would still exist : that 
there is a remainder of time before and after every appre- 
hended event, and before and after the sum of all such 
events : in other words, that events or changes do not Jill 
time. We likewise believe time to be infinite, not how- 
ever in three directions, like space, but in two — backwards 
and forwards. 

If we can believe these things concerning time, we can 
likewise think them. These beliefs being primary, we 
must hold the things believed to be true. 



11 



162 



CHAPTEE VI. 

THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 

Our several intuitions, external or internal, are pieced 
together and interlaced, so to speak, by processes which 
are purely rational, that is to say, are unpicturable or un- 
imaginable. 

If we wish to investigate these processes and trace them 
to their more simple forms, we must make our way by 
working inwards, from the concrete and involved whole, 
towards the ingredients of which it is composed. For this 
purpose, we must first isolate from among the data of our 
consciousness that portion which we are to attribute to 
pure reason. 

This term, " pure reason," is here used in contradistinc- 
tion to intuition, whether external or internal. Reason is 
that faculty which by its working evolves notions ; as 
intuition is that which imbibes presentations and reproduces 
representations. 

The isolating process in question is to be conducted in 
the following manner : — Let us take the sum total of our 
existing or potential knowledge, such as, without philoso- 
phizing as to its origin or validity, we in fact find it to be ; 
from tli is mass let us subtract those portions which are 
directly given as intuitions ; and the residuum will exhibit 
to us the workings of the pure reason. This residuum 
constitutes the concrete whole which we shall have to 
analvse into its elements. 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 163 

Laborious as this process may be, it is not easy to see 
how any more compendious method can be safe ; since, it 
can hardly be too often repeated, we know nothing what- 
ever concerning the powers of our own minds, except what 
we can gather inductively from observing what men have 
done; nor, after the fullest induction, can we be certain 
that our knowledge is complete and exhaustive, except so 
far as we shall see that the phenomena repeat themselves 
or go in cycles, after a law which we shall thus find that 
we have perfectly formulated. 

Perhaps, however, the process which we are undertaking 
may not prove to be so very laborious as it appears at first 
sight. 

What portion of our knowledge is made up of intuitions, 
we ought now to be in a position pretty accurately to de- 
termine. External intuitions have a definite and strongly 
marked character which cannot be mistaken. Such intui- 
tions are in every instance first given to, and then repro- 
duced under the conditions of, some one or other of our 
bodily senses : they contain no matter of inference, com- 
parison, or difference : each is single, isolated, homo- 
geneous : each may indeed have contents, as occupying 
space, but we no sooner begin to say that one of them may 
be made up of parts which differ amongst themselves, than 
we find ourselves quitting intuition and entering upon 
comparison, which is an act of pure thought. In external 
intuition, we either are conscious, or remember to have 
been conscious when that which is now represented was 
first presented to us, of an immediate contact of self with 
non-self. Such is external intuition. 

Internal intuition is less obtrusively distinguished from 
bare thought. Still, it is distinguished from it, as has been 
pointed out in the fourth chapter of the First Part, by the 
conjunction with it of a certain inexplicable sense of pre- 



164 THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 

sent power or activity, carrying with it for the most part 
if not always a feeling pleasurable or painful. 

Again, the thing from which we are thus to eliminate 
the intuitive element, viz., the sum total of man's know- 
ledge, is a thing which, so far as regards its formal cha- 
racter, — and with this alone we have here to deal, — we 
find classified to our hand, in the sciences of grammar and 
logic. Logic, in that wide sense of the term which is 
given to it by Hamilton, Thomson, and Mill ; regarded, 
not simply as the science of syllogistic reasoning, but as 
the science of the " formal laws of thought/' or as " the 
science of the operations of the understanding, which are 
subservient to the estimation of evidence ; " l exhibits to 
us, in a compact form, the materials we are to analyse. 

Intuition and inference, according to Mill, make up the 
sum total of human knowledge. If this be so, — which, 
however, I do not yet pretend to assert, — the science of 
inference, or logic, must exhibit to us precisely that of 
which we are in quest — the laws of the non-intuitive 
portion of human knowledge. We have only to examine 
what powers or faculties arc brought into play, in the 
processes dealt with by logic, and to enumerate and 
classify them. 

Logic, thus understood, has three parts : the science of 
terms or words, the science of judgments or propositions, 
and the science of syllogisms and of trains of reasoning 
inductive or deductive. Of these, it seems likely that for 
our purpose the first — the science of terms — will be found 
the most important. This branch of knowledge is common 
ground to logic and grammar. 

Is it true or not — this, I think, is the first question we 
should ask ourselves — that for every word which exists 

1 Mill, Logic, vol. i. p. 11. 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 165 

there exists a corresponding thought, — a thought of which 
the word is the symbol or mark ? 

If we can answer this question in the affirmative, we 
shall at once have placed ourselves in possession of a large 
body of facts from which we can draw conclusions as to the 
faculties of the mind: since words have been classified 
after a manner in some degree corresponding with the 
several modes of mental activity exhibited in the notions 
which they severally symbolize. 

Of words which are names, whether of things or of 
thoughts, there seems no question but that they are marks 
or symbols of objects, so that every name has some object, 
really or potentially, i.e. conceivably, existing, which in a 
manner corresponds to it. Mr. Mill adopts the definition 
given by Hobbes — " A name is a word taken at pleasure to 
serve for a mark, which may raise in our mind a thought 
like to some thought we had before, and which, being 
pronounced to others, may be to them a sign of what 
thought the speaker had before in his mind." (Logic, 
vol. i. p. 23). 

The doubt, if there be a doubt, can only refer to such 
words as are not names of objects ; whether such as indi- 
cate mere relations, or qualities, or negations ; or compound 
words that may be constructed by the accretion of two or 
more names or parts of names. 

This doubt may be stated under the form of the follow- 
ing question : — Is thought limited by the necessities of 
language, and constrained to take the shape of the mould 
which language has provided for it, or is language itself 
simply the handmaid and instrument of thought? Is 
thought shaped by language, or language by thought ? 

An answer to this question may be found in a very slight 
consideration of the growth and development of language. 
This exhibits a gradual adaptation of it to the necessities of 



166 THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 

thought. In the development of language, as may be 
observed in children, or traced by a comparison of the 
literature of any nation in successive stages of its develop- 
ment, objects are first noted, then actions, afterwards rela- 
tions. These last, being remote from sense, and having no 
hold on the imagination, appear never to have been con- 
sciously apprehended, so as to suggest the need for names, 
until after some progress has been made in the formation 
of a language. Hence we find that, in most if not all 
languages, the words used to denote relations are verbs, or 
parts of verbs, which have been diverted from their original 
function, and. used, originally through metaphors or ana- 
logies more or less forced, but eventually as perfectly dis- 
tinct words, their primitive meaning being discarded and 
at last forgotten. Here, in the very structure of words, 
we see thought forcing for itself a way through the tram- 
mels of a language inadequate to give it expression, and 
for this purpose disintegrating its materials, in order, with 
them, to construct a more copious vocabulary in proportion 
to its growing wants. In this process we see thought the 
master of language, not its servant. 

That language follows upon thought, instead of leading 
it, further appears from this, — that, in proportion as new 
objects come to be known, new names are presently coined 
for them. 

In truth, it seems impossible to account for the coming 
into existence of any articulate word, were it not preceded 
by some need or desire for its employment ; which can 
only be the pressure of some thought which men have been 
impelled in this manner to give utterance to. 

We may conclude, then, that every single word, current 
in a Language, proves the existence of a thought denoted 
by it. How the case may stand with composite phrases, 
or with trains of seeming reasoning which may be con- 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 167 

str acted by an artificial conjunction of words, we do not at 
present stay to consider. 

Perhaps the question may be asked, what is a word ? 
That which in one language is expressed by a single word, 
requires in another two or three. In such a case, is the 
thing expressed, which must be the same in both the lan- 
guages, one thought or three? Some languages are, in 
the phrase of philologers, agglutinative, as the Greek and 
Latin ; others, like our own, are not so, or are not so to the 
same extent. If amavi is the equivalent of " I have loved," 
is "amavi" three words, or the symbol of three thoughts, 
or are " I " and " have," in this connection, only fragments 
of one thought ? This question may be readily answered, 
if we consider that, just as "I" and "have" may be an- 
nexed indifferently to "loved" or "hated" or any other 
verb, and at each remove produce by their combination 
one and the same modification of the verb, so their cor- 
relatives "av" and "i" may in like manner be annexed 
indifferently to the root "am" or any other verbal root of 
the same conjugation, and upon every such annexation 
affect the root in the self same manner : which fact of itself 
proves these terminations to have a meaning of their own, 
independent of the root ; so that they are truly words, or 
symbols of so many distinct thoughts, not merely fragments 
of words ; and, whether they are written and pronounced so 
as to run into the root, or with a space or pause between, 
is a mere typographical or phonetic arrangement, not in 
the least affecting the question of grammar. For gram- 
matical purposes, — i.e. for what concerns the science of 
thought as exhibited in speech, these prefixes or suffixes 
are distinct words. 

The science of words, as has been observed, is common 
ground to grammar and logic. " Logic," says Whately, 



168 THE CONJUNCTION OP INTUITIONS. 

"is, as it were, the grammar of reasoning." (Logic, Intr.) 
The truth is, logic and grammar together constitute one 
science, — the science of the mind's operations in thinking ; 
of which science grammar more especially deals with the 
first of the three great subdivisions, viz., terminology, 
while logic — in the ordinary sense of this term — is most 
appropriately occupied with the second or third, viz., the 
laws of judgments and of ratiocination. Logicians, how- 
ever, feeling the imperfections of common systems of gram- 
mar, and conscious of the impossibility of building securely 
unless this foundation be first made steady for them, have 
found it necessary to encroach on the territory of the gram- 
marian, in order to place terminology on a scientific basis. 
Thus it happens that the principles even of grammar may 
be best learnt from the logicians. 

It may be convenient, however, in the first instance to 
run over the several "parts of speech, " as they are given 
to us in ordinary grammars, in order to enumerate the non- 
intuitive elements contained in each of them ; which ele- 
ments must afterwards be arranged in such a manner as 
that each may be examined adequately yet without re- 
petition. 

Let us begin with nouns substantive. These are sub- 
divided into nouns singular, or proper names, and nouns 
general, or class-names. 

From an intuition to the thing or thought denoted by a 
noun singular is a long journey, of which some of the prin- 
cipal posts or stations have been already designated. To 
constitute the object thus named, it has been necessary to 
give a certain unity to many intuitions, probably belong- 
ing to different senses, and connected together, partly by 
presental ion, partly by representation through the memory. 
The means by which tin's is done have been set forth in the 
chapter on substance. The several intuitions which are to 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 169 

fee appropriated to the object, are connected with it through 
a belief, which appears to be engendered within us by a 
primary instinct; the belief, namely, that the intuitions 
which together make up the whole of our empirical know- 
ledge concerning the object, are attributes which inhere in 
it as their substance. The attributes may be many and 
diverse, but the substance is one : attributes may undergo 
mutation from time to time, yet the substance preserves its 
identity. In this manner the manifold becomes or is con- 
stituted one by an act of thought. 

Thus it appears that one of the pure forms of thought 
which underlies the construction of nouns singular, is the 
form of number. The object to which we give a name is 
distinguished as One. A certain unity is attached to it, by 
which it is differenced from all other objects. 

We might no doubt go further in this analysis, but per- 
haps this is enough for the present. We may content our- 
selves with saying that the object of thought denoted by a 
noun singular contains intuitions plus substance plus num- 
ber. In other words, when we have formed the notion of 
a single object — e.g. the man Socrates — we have conjoined 
several intuitions under the forms of substance and attri- 
bute and numerical unity. 

To prevent misconception, the reader is here to be re- 
minded that the object of a noun singular cannot be ade- 
quately represented by imagination, except in the very rare 
case of an object having for the mind only one attribute 
and that unvarying. A fixed star, to non-astronomers, 
may be considered as such an object : it is presented solely 
as an object of vision, and is seen always the same, i.e as a 
very small drop of white light. Such an object may per- 
haps be represented precisely such as it is thought, and 
thought such as it is represented ; I mean, of course, when 
its real magnitude is supposed actually unknown and un- 



170 THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 

thought of. But an object which is apprehended by two 
or more senses, e.g. which can be both seen and touched, is 
thought of in a wa}^ which cannot be imagined ; for, though 
w r e can imagine that which we see, and again can imagine 
that which we touch, yet we cannot imagine that union of 
the two in one and the same object which we apprehend in 
thought, when we say that the sight and the touch belong 
to one single thing. It is the same with an object appre- 
hended by a single sense, but apprehended diversely at 
different times ; such as the moon ; for we can imagine it 
either as an orb or a crescent, but we cannot imagine that 
which we think, when we give the one name, moon, to both 
crescent and orb, thus declaring both to be one. 1 

How or why it is that we thus give unity to the mani- 
fold, by gathering intuitions in parcels and attaching them 
to objects, we need not here stay to inquire. It is obvious 
that one reason why we do so is that, in fact, certain in- 
tuitions constantly exhibit themselves to us in company, 
and, by coming before us again and again always as neigh- 
bours, force upon us the conviction that there is some secret 
bond of union between them. This docs not in the least 
militate against the assertion, that the thought or appre- 
hension of this bond of union is a different thing from the 
mere intuitions themselves. 

We come next to nouns general, or class-names. This 
branch of the subject has been to a great extent anticipated 
in the sixth chapter of the First Part. We have now 
simply to consider what forms of thought arc contained in 
t lie fact that objects arc thus distributed by the mind into 
classes. 

In thinking of classes of objects, we build upon that 
which we have already done, in distributing our intuitions 
1 See Part I. chap. vi. 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 171 

under objects : we think of individual objects and we also 
think of a bond of union which connects such objects to- 
gether by bringing some of them into, and excluding others 
of them from, a particular class. That bond of union is 
not here, as before, the belonging to a common substance. 
On the contrary, we believe that the class has no substan- 
tial existence ; there is no thing which answers to the class- 
word man or clog; the class is merely a mental receptacle, a 
shelf or pigeonhole, so to speak, into which, for convenience 
of arrangement, we stow away a certain portion of the 
furniture of our minds. We do not, however, classify 
objects at random, or arbitrarily ; there is always a reason 
why this particular mode of classification is adopted in pre- 
ference to others ; there is a vinculum, or bond of union, 
betwixt the members of the same class. This vinculum is 
qualitative similarity ; which with classes of objects occu- 
pies the place that is held by quantitative, i.e. substantial, 
identity in the case of individual objects. We classify 
objects together because their qualities or attributes are 
similar. This, rightly understood, is the universal prin- 
ciple of classification. It is not, indeed, always the case 
that we inquire into the similarity of all the attributes ; 
perhaps it never is so ; but we take certain attributes, or it 
may be some single attribute, which for the purpose in 
hand it is desirable to regard as the thing to be attended to, 
and we compare objects with reference to this attribute or 
these attributes alone. But, this being understood, it is 
always similarity of attribute which forms the basis of 
classification. 

Thus we see that in the formation of class-names the 
mental faculty which is principally brought into play is 
the faculty of discerning likeness and difference, i.e. the 
faculty of comparison. This faculty is purely intelligential. 
When two intuitions are brought together by a mental act, 



172 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 



and are pronounced to be similar or dissimilar, the relation 
of similarity or dissimilarity is not a third intuition, but a 
mental apperception generically different from an intuition. 

Nouns adjective, which come next in order, are the names 
of qualities. They may be sub-divided into simple and 
complex, the first being names of intuitions, and the second 
names of intuitions conjoined with notions. Such adjec- 
tives as denote colours, as red, blue, etc., or qualities of 
sounds, or tastes, as sweet, bitter, etc., or any other sensible 
impression, taken simply as it comes to us, are of the first 
class : to which also belong those which denote the simple 
feelings, as angry, sad, cheerful, etc. ; while such words as 
virtuous, honest, and the like, cannot thus be traced to 
some single intuition, but are the result of a mixed pro- 
cess, thought having first manipulated the data of intuition. 

It is certainly remarkable that, whereas intuitions, in 
and by themselves, are the first among the data of con- 
sciousness which find entrance into the mind, the attribu- 
tion of them to objects being solely the result of a belief 
which operates we know not why, we yet find no language 
in which intuitions have substantive names of their own. 
The names of intuitions are invariably in their ver}^ struc- 
ture pendulous, incapable, like ivy, of standing alone, and 
needing the support of substantives to which they may 
adhere. We sec a patch of red, and at once conclude that 
there is some object of which redness is a quality : and 
this belief, which instantaneously converts the thing seen 
into a mere attribute of some thing not seen, was operative 
at the earliest time when men used articulate speech, for it 
has left its stamp in language, — the thing seen has never 
had ;i name as ;i thing. 

Adjectives have been termed "abstract" names. "A 
concrete name/ 1 says Mill, "is a name which stands for a 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 173 

thing; an abstract name is a name which stands for an 
attribute of a thing." (Logic, p. 29). This distinction Mr 
Mill informs us he borrows from the schoolmen ; and he 
with some bitterness laments the wanton "abuse of lan- 
guage," by which the term " abstract" has come to be con- 
founded with " general." The blame of this misappropria- 
tion he charges upon the followers of Locke. 

Now, assuming it to be true that there is some quality 
or combination of qualities in the mind in virtue of which 
it abstracts, i.e. draws apart, and sets up for separate con- 
templation, certain portions of that datum which is first 
presented to it as a whole, it may still fairly be questioned 
whether it is not true, as Kant has said, that the mind can 
only in this manner take to pieces that which the mind 
itself has previously put together, and whether its power of 
disintegration is not confined to the sutures and junctions 
which itself has previously made, — whether, in short, it 
can do more than unfasten that which it had previously 
fastened into one. 1 

We first piece together intuitions by acts of thought, 
operating mostly in subserviency to the law or primary 
belief of substance : afterwards, analysing the results of 
our own synthesis, we separate asunder the parts of this 
artificial unity, dissevering the intuitions from one another, 
and also from the thread — the pure thought or thoughts — 
which had served to bind these together. To this process 
of untying we give the name of abstraction. 

If this be so, as apparently it is, it is evidently inaccurate 
to limit the term " abstract name," or name of a thing 
obtained by abstraction alone, to adjectives. For, in the 

1 "Where the understanding has not previously conjoined, it cannot dissect 
or analyse; because only as conjoined by it must that which is to be analysed 
have been given to our faculty of representation. (Pure Keason, book i. 
chap. ii. sect. 2. § 11). 



174 THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 

first place, the intuitions preceded the analysis which gave 
the abstractions, as indeed they preceded the synthesis 
which made them up together as qualities of one substance. 
Besides which, our analysis leaves us with two distinct 
classes of residua, — the intuitions or things denoted by 
adjectives, and the acts of thought, or things denoted by 
those other parts of speech which we are now about to con- 
sider ; and, of these two, one as much as the other is 
entitled to be called an abstract name, since it is the name 
of a thing determined by the process of abstraction. 

We give one and the same name to a quality which is 
in many substances, e.g. blue, as a colour which may be 
discerned in the sky, the sea, many flowers, many objects 
of manufacture. Thus adjectives are class- names. The 
classification of qualities, under adjectives, appears to pro- 
ceed in the same method, and under the same form of 
thought, as the classification of objects, under nouns 
general ; i.e. likeness and unlikeness is the basis of it. 

Adjectives are sometimes called singulars, sometimes 
universals. Blue, for example, as a quality of many objects, 
is thought of as one and the same in each. Hence, accord- 
ing to our point of view, we may either call blue singular, 
as being one throughout, or universal, as being throughout 
all blue objects. This oneness of the adjective appears to 
be regarded by logicians not siruply as a qualitative one- 
ness, i.e. perfect similarity, but as quantitative oneness or 
actual unity. Thus Mr. Mill says that when an attribute 
admits of no variety cither of degree or kind, as for example 
milk-whitcness, then, " though it denote an attribute of 
many different objects, the attribute itself is always con- 
ceived as one, not many." (Logic, i. 30). 

This distinction will be better understood when we shall 
have shown, as it will presently be necessary to do, that 
" quantity/ 5 including number, is a form of thought which 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 175 

cannot be predicated of anything but substances. It would 
seem easy to negative the doctrine of Mill, cited above, by 
an appeal to men's ordinary belief, which certainly would 
justify our saying that the whiteness of one billiard ball, 
though it may be exactly similar to, is not the same thing 
as, the whiteness of another billiard ball ; or that the anger 
of to-day is not the same thing as the anger of yesterday, 
though both be precisely of the same degree and manifest 
themselves within me precisely in the same manner. But 
in so saying we should in truth be confounding two dif- 
ferent things. Regarded in their relation to the substances 
in which they respectively inhere, the two whitenesses, the 
two angers, are two, not one ; but, regarded simply in 
themselves, apart from all relation to the substance, the 
whiteness is one, and the anger is one. 

We come in the next place to verbs. 

A verb, like an adjective, is an abstract term. It is 
deduced from intuitions by a process later in the order of 
thought than the formation of objects. When we have 
connected together several intuitions as belonging to one 
object, we next observe that this object undergoes changes ; 
in other words, the intuitions which belong to it shift their 
positions, either relatively to one another or relatively to 
other objects, but always in space or time. Thus change, 
and its relation to the object which is changed, come to be 
distinct objects of thought. Yery likely this arises from 
our observing a certain community or similarity in the 
changes of many diverse objects. We abstract from the 
objects this one common property of mutation, and give a 
name to it ; beginning with such kinds of change as are 
most obvious and frequent, and going on gradually to the 
more recondite. Action and passion are the two leading 
divisions of change : things drive or are driven. There 



176 THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 

can be no doubt that the changes of outward objects are 
first noted and first named, and afterwards the changes 
which take place within our own minds. Thus verbs are 
abstract class-names. 

Here we may notice, what might indeed have been 
mentioned before, since it is common to all classification, 
that in thus forming classes there comes into operation the 
mental law or form of excluded middle, 1 sometimes ex- 
pressed in the formula, " A thing either is or is not," but 
which perhaps may better be brought under the still more 
general formula of metaphysics, viz., that, to every object 
of thought there is annexed its opposite or contradictory. 
We cannot think of change without likewise thinking of 
its contradictory, viz., rest or persistency. So the giving 
names to phenomenal changes is accompanied by the giving 
names to the various states of repose or freedom from 
change. 

A large class of verbs indicate, not merely phenomenal 
changes, but the causes of change, as powers or forces. 
The full significance of this fact in language will not appear 
until we shall have considered the meaning of the term 
causation, and in some measure discussed the controversies 
which bear upon it ; matters which must be reserved for a 
future chapter. For the present, therefore, it may be well 
to confine our attention to those verbs which denote change 
or the absence of change, whether in objects external to 
ourselves, or in the states of our own minds. These may 
for convenience be termed Phenomenal Verbs, since they 
define merely the states of objects which arc apparent to us, 
without ascending to the causal forces which may underlie 
those states but are manifested to us solely through their 
effects. 

Change is or implies a relation. Objects undergo changes 
1 Sec Hamilton, Lectures, vol. iii. p. 8:5. 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 177 

relatively to one another, or relatively to space, which is 
regarded as something fixed. The assertion " A moves," 
is unmeaning, unless we are thinking not only of A but 
also of something, be it only vacant space, through which, 
towards which, or from which, A is supposed to move. 
What, then, is relation ? It is the bringing of two objects 
together under one act of thought, and viewing them, not 
as isolated, but as affecting or affected by one another. If 
it is relation in space which is in question, such relation 
supposes two things, the notion of space, and the notion of 
measure or comparative quantity of space. We must think 
of the two objects as nearer or less near to one another. 
We require, therefore, space plus quantity, in order to con- 
ceive such a relation. If it is a question of relation in 
time, we require, in order to apprehend the relation, the 
notion of time, plus the notion of a measure or quantity of 
time. Quantity, then, is a form of relation. 

Every phenomenal verb denotes two things,— a change 
(or absence of change) and the connexion of that change 
with the object which changes. Hence logicians analyse 
every verb into an adjective and the copula : the change 
itself being a property of the object, i.e. an adjective, and 
the copula (is, or is not ; or, more strictly, is only) expres- 
sing the connexion of the property with its object. The 
phrase "A goes/' contains three distinct members: A, the 
object ; " go," the kind of change which is the property of 
A, here denoted, and the copula, given under a slight dis- 
guise, which connects this property with this object. 1 Thus 
in the formation of a verb we see the partial disintegration 
of that synthesis of thought and intuition which takes 
place in the conception of individual actions. In other 
words, the verb is the quality of change or relation, ab- 

1 " The copula, as 6uch, expresses merely the agreement or disagreement of 
two given terms." (Whately, Logic, chap. ii. § 2). 

12 



178 THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 

stracted from the objects it had been attached to in that 
synthesis, and viewed, not indeed as a thing, but as an 
object of thought, by itself 

With regard to pronouns— which, indeed, according to 
the etiquette of the grammarians, ought to have been 
suffered to take precedence of verbs — there is very little 
here to be said. In so far as they merely officiate as sub- 
stitutes for nouns, their employment is a matter which 
belongs solely to the parsimony of words in discourse, and 
may be passed over as metaphysically unimportant. It is, 
however, to be noted that every pronoun is the result of 
a process of abstraction which is based solely on relations, 
and on that account this Part of Speech is an interesting 
one. In the case of demonstrative pronouns, every object 
is regarded as being, for the purpose of classification, alike, 
or indifferent ; every thing, however dissimilar to another, 
shares with it the common title of this, or that, or yonder, 
simply according as it stands related, in regard to nearness 
or distance, with the person who is speaking. So of per- 
sonal pronouns : there are but three possible relations of an 
object which in this connexion are recognized ; either the 
object is myself, who am speaking, you, to whom I am 
speaking, or some he, she, it, or they, of whom I am 
speaking. Ilowever various may be the thou or you to 
whom I at different times may be addressing myself, yet 
in the relation here in question all are one ; and so of the 
various objects of which I may from time to time be 
thinking or speaking. 

Now if it be true that we can disintegrate by thought 
only such portions of a concept as our thought has pre- 
viously combined, the very existence of pronouns demon- 
strates that bare relations, unimaginable as they confessedly 
and evidently are, are yet integral objects of thought. 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 179 

Adverbs are said by grammarians to be words which 
qualify adjectives, i.e. which qualify qualities. Assuming 
this to be an adequate definition, we have to inquire how 
such qualifying takes place. There seem to be only the 
following ways in which adjectives can be qualified ; we 
can either apply measures of quantity to the quality, and 
describe it as " much" or " little ; " or measures of number, 
as " once" or " often ;" or measures of space, as " near" or 
"far;" or measures of time, as "now" or "yesterday" 
or " hereafter ; " or, finally, analogies derived from some 
other quality, as connected with the quality itself by some 
phrase indicating likeness, as the English termination " -ly," 
" truly," being a disguise of " true-like," and so of all other 
adverbs in this form. Thus we get adverbs of quality, 
quantity, number, space, and time. 

If, now, we pause to consider what we have been doing, 
we observe that we have throughout been dealing with 
relations. We have brought into juxtaposition, every time 
we have used an adverb, two objects of thought, and have 
considered them conjointly, uniting both in one mental 
act, under the various reciprocal relations which may sub- 
sist between two objects, viz., relations of quality, quantity, 
number, space, or time. Or, if there has been some com- 
plex relation, e.g. that of repetition, as given in the adverb 
" often," it may always be analysed into one or other of 
these primary forms. 

I have purposely omitted a sixth relation, though a pri- 
mary one, viz., the relation of cause and effect : the whole 
question of causality being reserved for separate considera- 
tion in a future chapter. It is a question which involves 
too many controversies to be satisfactorily dealt with in any 
other manner. 

Prepositions, like adverbs, have to do with relations. 
Hence we find that a table of prepositions may be arranged 



180 THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 

almost in a parallel column with a table of adverbs ; the 
classification, so far as regards the several kinds of rela- 
tions, being the same for both. 

By giving to a preposition a distinct name, we declare 
that we are capable of thinking the relation distinctly, i.e. 
apart from the objects which are related. To imagine this 
is impossible, but not so to think it; for we can give a 
name, i.e. annex a word, to nothing but to an object of 
thought. The relation of an object to the place it occupies 
is denoted by the preposition at. When we isolate the 
thought of this relation from its objects, i.e. when we coin 
the word at, we in this act declare our minds competent to 
grasp this thought, impalpable as it is to the imagination. 

Of conjunctions, whether properly conjunctive or dis- 
junctive, it is needless to say more than that they denote 
the relation which arises between the two objects of thought 
from their being brought into one by being united in a 
single act of thought. 

Interjections may be passed over, as having nothing to 
do with the synthesis or analysis of intuition by thought. 
So far as they can be said to have any meaning at all, 
interjections may perhaps be defined as a species of primi- 
tive description or naming of simple moods of mind, or 
internal presentations separated from the objects to which 
they have attached themselves. In using an interjection, 
we give a sort of mimetic utterance to our simple feelings ; 
and, if this be so, it is likely that interjections are the most 
primitive and rudimentary of all parts of speech. 

liming thus gone through the parts of speech, it may 
be expedient, before entering upon the two other branches 
of logic, first to gather up the forms of thought which have 
been discovered in this analysis. 

Of space and time, which are more properly forms of 



THE CONJUNCTION OF iNiUtTlONS. 181 

intuition than of reason ; and of substance, which, as a 
form, seems to hold a place intermediate between pure in- 
tuition and pure reason ; enough has been said. Cause, 
and causal force, are reserved for future consideration. 
Those forms which remain may be enumerated as number, 
quantity, and likeness or unlikeness — which last includes 
the act of conjunction. 

1. In order to make a comparison between objects of in- 
tuition or thought, each of the objects must first be isolated 
from all others, and regarded as a whole by itself. Each, 
then, is regarded simply as a unit : and, in respect of nu- 
merical unity, the two objects are alike. Number, then, 
including unity as well as plurality, is one fundamentum 
relationis between objects : and it is one which is given by 
the mind a priori. 

2. Quantity is unity conjoined with the occupying of a 
definite portion either of space or time. The apprehension 
of quantity requires two conditions, — a pure intuition of 
space or time, and a power in the mind to isolate or mea- 
sure off certain portions of this intuition, and also to com- 
pare the portions thus set apart one with another. No 
doubt, empirical measures of time or space are abundantly 
furnished to the mind from without ; but the notion of 
making use of such measures could never have presented 
itself to the mind, had not the impulse to such mensuration 
first been given to it as an a priori faculty. 

Quantities can only be compared together in so far as 
they are homogeneous. Spaces cannot be measured against 
durations, lines against surfaces, or surfaces against solids. 
In other words, there is not an absolute community of rela- 
tion amongst quantities. 

Comparison of quantity can only be made between objects 
which are finite in extension or duration. For, the com- 
parison must be made with reference to some common 



182 THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 

ground which embraces both the objects compared. It is 
true that we may compare together a supposed infinite line 
or cylinder of one inch in breadth with another two inches 
broad ; but we can only compare them in respect of their 
breadth, i.e. in respect of that which is finite. We may 
say that one cylinder is twice as broad as the other ; or 
that, if portions of both, equal in length, be taken, the one 
will be the double in quantity of the other ; but we have 
no right to say that the one infinite cylinder is as a whole 
equal or unequal to the other ; for we cannot predicate 
quantity of that which has no limit. 

We are here, it is true, on very debateable ground. 
Mathematicians constantly speak of infinites as being equal ; 
though apparently on no other ground than the impos- 
sibility of affirming that one is greater or less than another, 
which leaves their judgments in equilibrio. Dr. Whewell 
maintains that one infinite may be the double or the half 
of another. Sir W. Hamilton uses the perplexities which 
result from the application of arithmetic to the comparison 
of infinites, as an argument to establish that the infinite 
lies wholly beyond the range of human thought. That 
infinites can be thought, but cannot be measured against 
one another in relation to quantity, is a proposition to 
which all these conflicting authorities seem to be opposed. 

Let it, however, be conceded that we can think objects 
infinite, and then the question arises, by what faculty are 
we to measure against one another the spaces, or durations, 
which such objects respectively occupy ? In order to mea- 
sure one space against another, at least we must be able to 
measure one of them. We must go round the borders of 
it, isolate it from other spaces by limits, take its dimensions 
as a whole, and so ascertain that it is thus much and no 
more. But such mensuration is only possible with respect 
to finite spaces ; the infinite elude it. 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 183 

To say that two infinites cannot be compared together in 
respect of quantity, is a very different thing from saying 
that they are wholly incogitable. This topic, however, is 
to be followed out more at large in a future chapter. 

3. As regards the third form of pure reason, — the dis- 
cernment of likeness and difference, or quality, it is hardly 
necessary in this place, after what has been already said, to 
do more than barely note its existence. 

Apparently, every differential relation between two ob- 
jects may be resolved at last into a sense of difference be- 
tween two (or several pairs of) simple intuitions. Reasons 
have been already given for holding this sense or appre- 
hension to be an act of pure intellect, genericaMy different 
from the intuitions themselves. It is something added to 
the two intuitions : we know more, after we have noted the 
similarity or dissimilarity of two intuitions; than when we 
have merely directed our attention to the two intuitions 
consecutively but disconnectedly ;, yet this additional piece 
of knowledge is not a third intuition, but something of a 
different kind. 

We come now to the second branch of the subject, viz,, 
that division of logic which treats of judgments ; and on 
this, fortunately, the purpose in hand permits me to be 
very brief. 

Judgment, according to the logicians, is the bringing 
into a mental conjunction — which conjunction is itself in- 
dicated by the copula — of an object and of some property 
or quality of that object. This predicate (property or 
quality) may either be such as defines the object, i.e. severs 
it off from all other objects ; or it may be something which 
the object possesses but which is possessed by other objects 
also. " Man is a reasonable animal," is an example of the 
first kind ; " man is an animal, " of the second. Minor dis- 



184 THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONSc 

tinctions, as that between definitio and proprium, I here 
pass over as immaterial to our purpose. 

Judgments are said to differ in quantity, according as 
they are universal or particular. Singular judgments are 
for logical purposes reckoned as universals ; the attribute 
being applied to the whole of the object. 

They differ in quality, according as they are affirmative 
or negative. 

In relation they are said to differ, according as they 
are categorical, hypothetical, or disjunctive. Categorical 
judgments are those in which the object is affirmed to be- 
long or not to belong to the predicate. Hypothetical judg- 
ments, — i.e. those which are in reality and not in mere 
form hypothetical, — are those which infer a connection be- 
tween the object and the predicate in the way of cause and 
effect. The consideration of this connection is reserved for 
a future chapter. 1 Disjunctive judgments are those which 
affirm that the object is either A or B. 

Judgments are said by most logicians to differ in 
modality, according as they are possible, true, or neces- 
sary. 

Of these four categories or forms of judgment, it is only 
the fourth, that of modality, which seems to add anything 
to the list of rational forms already put together. This is 
so, because it is the fourth alone which is peculiar to judg- 
ments. Possibility, truth, and necessity, considered subjec- 
tively, in their relation to ourselves, are, as has been seen, 
only so many kinds or degrees of belief. We hold a thing 
possible, when we believe that it may or may not be ; true, 
when we believe that it is ; necessary, when we believe 

1 For iin explanation of this, the reader is referred to Thomson's Laws of 
Thought, $ 78, in which are given all the formulae of hypothetical judgments. 

If these arc analysed, it will he found that, with the exception of the fifth 
formula, they aU may readily he resolved Into categorical judgments. The fifth 
bring! in the notion of cause, and so far oidy is a judgment of B different kind. 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 185 

that it must be. We are conscious of having these three 
grounds of belief, and this is perhaps the only explanation 
that can be given of them. If it be true that we have 
them, it follows that we must have a source of belief which 
transcends experience ; for experience can only give "it is," 
never "it must be." 

Those philosophers, accordingly, who insist upon re- 
ducing all knowledge to experience, find it convenient, 
and indeed absolutely requisite, to deny that the character 
of necessity can legitimately attach itself to any one of our 
beliefs. The axioms and demonstrations of mathematics 
are hence peculiarly obnoxious in the eyes of this school. 
The boldest and ablest among them, Mr. John Stuart 
Mill, .finds it necessary to declare internecine war upon 
these provoking axioms. According to Mr. Mill, our belief 
in the necessity of mathematical truths is a mere illusion, 
resulting from the impossibility of divorcing in thought 
two conceptions which have been repeatedly presented to 
the mind in conjunction, and have never once been ex- 
hibited to it except in conjunction. There is in his book 
on Logic a remarkable dissertation on this thesis, which 
has not unnaturally provoked the ire of mathematicians. 
It is commenced in the following terms : — " This character 
of necessity, ascribed to the truths of mathematics, and 
even (with some reservations to be hereafter made) the 
peculiar certainty attributed to them, is an illusion." 
(Logic, book ii. chap. v. § 1). Mr. Mill then proceeds to 
give reasons for believing that, to whatever extent the 
axioms and theorems of pure geometry are even so much 
as true, they are so in virtue of having been accurately 
induced from experience; and consequently can have no 
greater certainty than that high probability which ac- 
cumulated and uniform experience can endow them with, 
— all beyond this being a mere delusion of our minds, 



18fr THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 

consequent on our confounding the possibilities of existence 
with the limited range of our own mental faculties. Into 
this controversy I do not propose here to enter. Mr. Mill 
may be left in the hands of Dr. Whewell ; and his paradox 
is only here noticed for the purpose of pointing out to what 
lengths the sensationalist philosophy is of necessity carried. 
In the chapter on Causation I shall have the opportunity 
of pointing out, likewise, a remarkable occasion on which 
Mr. Mill has abandoned his chosen position, and clings for 
support to this very notion of Necessity, which he here 
pronounces an illusion. 

When we have framed terms, and combined them into' 
judgments, it seems that all the faculties of our reason have 
been called into play ; so that, although the combining of" 
judgments into syllogisms, and so framing trains whether 
of deductive or inductive reasoning, is no doubt a perfectly 
distinct exercise of our understanding, — distinct, that is, in 
its object and method of procedure, — it does not appear that 
any additional forms of thought emerge during this exer- 
cise; and consequently this third section of Logic may 
here be passed over without notice. 

All that remains is, to sum up the results which have 
been arrived at. 

The categories of pure thought, as given in this chapter,, 
are the following : — 

1. Number. 

2. A measure of quantity. 

3. Likeness and difference. 

4. Affirmation and negation. 

5. Cause. (Reserved.) 

(>. Modality. Possible : true : necessary. 

These do not very widely diii'er from Kant's categories, 



THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 187 

and I do not venture to say that the difference is an 
improvement. Kant gives the following 

"TABLE OF THE CATEGORIES. 

1 2 

Of quantity. Of quality.. 

Unity. Reality. 

Plurality. Negation. 

Totality. Limitation. 

Of relation. 
Inherence and subsistence (substantia et accidens). 
Causality and dependence (cause and effect). 
Community (reciprocity between agent and patient) . 

4 
Of modality. 

Possibility impossibility. 

Existence . non-existence. 

Necessity . , , . . . contingence." 

The differences between the categories as set forth in 
this chapter, and those enumerated by Kant, are the 
following: " Substance and attribute" is not on my list, 
but that is merely because I have already treated of this 
relation separately. "Unity and plurality" belong more 
properly to Number than to Quantity ; and I cannot dis- 
pense with "a measure of quantity" as a form of thought 
distinct from that of number. Kant's relation of "reci- 
procity" does not appear to me to be a simple form of 
thought, but the mere combination of two relations, one 
between A and B, and the other between B and A. I do 
not find that Kant brings in the relation of likeness and 
difference, which however I cannot but think simple and 
indispensable. "Limitation" I omit, as being nothing but 
a combination of difference and negation. 



188 THE CONJUNCTION OF INTUITIONS. 

Let us now examine the categories of Aristotle. These, 
with the translation of them, I take from Mill. 

Ovala Substantia. 

Uocrov Quantitas. 

Uoiov Qualitas. 

IT/30? ti Relatio. 

TJouelv Actio. 

Uacryeiv Passio. 

Uov Ubi. 

Tlore Quando. 

KelaOai .. Situs. 

'-E%eti/ Habitus. 

These may be a little simplified. Ubi, quando, and situs, 
involve the intuitions of space and time, and the notion of 
a measure whether of number or quantity. Relatio is a 
generic term, including several of the other notions enu- 
merated. Substantia, quantitas, and qualitas are retained 
on the modern lists. Actio and passio have been resolved 
by logicians into the copula and a quality or qualities, and 
thus fall under other categories. There remains only 
habitus, which, if I rightly understand it, is a mere com- 
bination of existence and continuous duration, and if so is 
certainly not a simple notion. On the whole, then, Aris- 
totle's categories appear to add nothing to those of Kant. 
The coincidences are interesting, and it does not really 
detract from the value of them, if we must suppose, with 
ITamilton, that Aristotle was framing his list from an 
objective point of view, as a catalogue of possible existences, 
while Kant's point of view was purely subjective, aiming 
at a catalogue of possible forms of thought ; since, in this 
mutter, the possibilities of thought must constitute the 
mcasuro of possible existence, not indeed as it is in itself, 
but as it is matter of human knowledge. 



189 



CHAPTER VII. 

CAUSATION. 

There now only remains that form of thought which 
was reserved for a separate consideration — viz., that which 
underlies men's beliefs relatively to Causation and Causes. 

In order properly to treat this question, it would be 
necessary to determine — 1st, what is in fact the belief of 
mankind on the subject of Cause; 2nd, whence is that 
belief derived; and 3rd, what is the objective validity of 
that belief — in other words, to what extent have we a right 
to consider that the thing believed is true. 

Thoroughly to discuss these three questions, disposing of 
all the controversies which branch out of them, would be 
no doubt a very useful work, but one far beyond the limits 
of this Essay. I must be content very briefly to indicate 
conclusions merely. 

That, amidst all the variety of men's opinions on subjects 
connected with causation, there is a certain consensus — a 
something which may fitly be termed " the belief of man- 
kind" — appears to be established from the uniformity which 
has prevailed in all ages and countries with respect to cer- 
tain ethical and certain rational principles which necessarily 
involve theories concerning cause. For example, the prin- 
ciple that men are morally blameable or praiseworthy in 
respect of such actions as are voluntary, and not in respect 
of such as are enforced, is one that all systems of juris- 
prudence, all religions, and the common sense of mankind 



190 CAUSATION. 

in all times and places, appear to have recognized as it were 
instinctively. This principle, however, is only intelligible 
on the supposition that man is in some sense the cause, or 
moving force, of his own acts in so far as they are acts of 
volition, while, with regard to all other acts, he is not an 
originator but at most a bare transmitter of force. 

As a matter of fact, that which men in general believe 
concerning causes, may, I think, be fairly stated as follows : 

Amongst objects supposed to be without intelligent voli- 
tion, whenever a change takes place, it is believed that that 
change must necessarily have had a cause. In saying this, 
men mean, not merely that some other fact or state of things 
must have preceded it in order of time, but that there must 
have been some force at work, which has produced the 
change. The thing which has been the cause of the change, 
has done so, we think, by exerting some force upon the 
objects changed. This term, force, cannot be defined, any 
more than we can define the sensation red or green ; it is a 
simple presentation, insusceptible of analysis into elements : 
but every one understands the term force as clearly as the 
term green. 1 

Now, if this force is traced to some object which is itself 
without intelligent volition, we are constrained, it seems, to 
believe that the force does not reside in the object, but is in 
someway behind it ; it operates through it, not from within; 
we consequently regard the action of this second or causa- 
fcive object as being itself the effect of some cause. And so, 
lmwover long be the chain of mechanical or lifeless causes, 
we find ourselves perpetually seeking for something which 
is behind them. 

Tli is tendency of our minds is expressed by the so-called 

1 "What convinces myself that T have an idea of power (force) is, that I 
,iiii conscious that I know whal I mean by (his word; and, while I have this 

.1 disdain equally to bear arguments for or against my having 

UUCl} ;in idea." (Ucid, Act. Towers, Essay i. chap. ii. p. 518). 



CAUSATION, 191 

axiom, "Everything which begins to exist must liave a 
cause." This axiom, however, does not accurately express 
what men in fact believe. 

For, when men have to deal with acts of volition, it does 
not appear that, apart from theories, they are driven by any 
impulse from within to seek for causes of such acts. Voli- 
tion is ordinarily supposed to be a force in itself : it seems 
to be the fact that each man has a direct consciousness that 
his own volitions are in some sense free. The very con- 
ception of force, which sets us on searching for causes, is 
probably first suggested to, or awakened in, every man by 
his direct consciousness of having, or of being, a force in 
himself. It is a sort of doing violence to his own instinc- 
tive belief, when he tries to persuade himself that his own 
acts of will are mere passive effects of remoter causes. He 
can only train himself into this belief by a somewhat severe 
logical process ; the contrivance for which can only be the 
application — the misapplication, I believe — of the above- 
mentioned axiom to volitions. 1 

In fact, not only does the belief in his own absolute 
passivity not come naturally to a man, but he is soon dis- 



1 " Is there any truth in the assertion, so often put forth as an undeniable 
discovery of modern science, that 'cause and effect are indissolubly chained 
together, and that one follows the other in inevitable succession ? ' There is 
just that amount of half-truth which makes error dangerous ; and there is no 
more. Experience is of two kinds, and philosophy is of two kinds ; that of 
the world of matter, and that of the world of mind, — that of physical succes- 
sion, and that of moral action. In the material world, if it be true that the 
researches of science tend towards (though who can say that they will ever 
reach?) the establishment of a system of fixed and orderly recurrence; in the 
mental world we are no less confronted, at every instant, by the presence of 
contingency and free will. In the one we are conscious of a chain of phe- 
nomenal effeets ; in the other of self, as an acting and originating cause. Nay, 
the very conception of the immutability of the law of cause and effect is not so 
much derived from the positive evidence of the former as from the negative 
evidence of the latter. We believe the succession to be necessary, because 
nothing bat mind can be conceived as interfering with the successions of 
matter ; and, where mind is excluded, we are unable to imagine contingence." 
(Mansel, Bampton Lectures, p. 124). 



192 CAUSATION. 

couraged from the task of forcing it upon himself, by two 
or three terrible difficulties to which it leads him. 

For, if active force does not reside in matter nor in mind, 
where does it reside ? If nowhere, how have we come to 
frame the notion of it ? If we are to assume that the notion 
is a mere illusion, which comes from no experience — for, 
on the hypothesis, there is no such thing in existence, and 
it consequently never can have been experienced — then it 
must have been engendered within us from the constitution 
of our own minds : and, if so, it is a primary belief which 
is illusory ; in which case, as has been seen, all our primary 
beliefs may be illusory, and so we plunge into absolute 
scepticism. Active force must then exist somewhere. 
Say, then, that it exists in God, and in Him only. We 
are not, however, out of our difficulty then. For, if it be 
so, it must either exist in one of those properties of the 
Divine nature which is the same as, or like, a property of 
man's nature, or in some property which is different from 
every property of man's nature. If the latter, it must be a 
property of which we can have no conception whatever. 
With such a property our minds could not come into 
contact. From such a property, therefore, the notion of 
force could by no possibility have been suggested to our 
minds : for we are supposing it not to have been manifested 
to us, either by outward objects — since in these we find no 
force to reside — nor by anything within our own selves. 
Thus there is no way of presentation, external or internal, 
by which force can, on this hypothesis, have been brought 
to our minds. We do have, however, the notion of force. 
This hypothesis, then, that there is no force in the will, is 
untenable. 

If the axiom, "everything which begins to exist must 
have a cause," is a universal truth, applicable to the move- 
ments of our own wills because to all movements, it must 



CAUSATION. 193 

be similarly applicable to every movement of the divine 
will. God, as well as man, is thus made subject to a cer- 
tain uncomprehended necessity. The existence of this 
necessity must again have had a cause; and so ad 
infinitum. 

Finally, if our volitions are necessitated, either we are 
not blameable for any act of ours, and so there is no such 
thing as right and wrong ; or else that universal and 
apparently primary belief, above spoken of, that moral 
blame is co-extensive with the power to act or abstain 
from acting, is an illusion. In either case we are driven 
to scepticism, for we have one primary belief irreconcileable 
with another. 

On the whole, then, it appears that the actual belief of 
man concerning causes is this : — The search for causes is a 
search for active force. Where volition is not, we find no 
force : we believe, however, that force underlies all change. 
Where volition is, we recognize the existence of force, and 
force in a manner self-originating. 

This belief cannot have come to us through external 
experience ; for we do not recognize force, in this sense, as 
existing in any objects except in ourselves, or volitions 
similar to our own ; besides which, external experience 
can exhibit to us no more than successions, from which we 
have no right to infer the existence of a force to cause 
them. The belief comes to us through an internal presen- 
tation — viz., the consciousness of force in our own acts of 
volition. But the individual presentation suggests and 
awakens the latent belief in cause as universal : it does not 
lead to it in the way of induction. As in the case of 
substance, so with cause ; we believe this or that act of 
volition to be the result of a force within ourselves, because 
we believe every act of volition to be so. When once we 
have consciously put forth a force, we know that we are 

13 



194 CAUSATION". 

continually putting forth force. It is not an induction, 
gathering force from accumulation of individual instances, 1 
but it is a primary belief, which only needs one single 
instance, not for proving, but for awakening us to a con- 
sciousness of, the universal law. 

This, then, in brief, appears to be the form, or primary 
belief, concerning cause : all change is the result of force, 
and force resides solely in volition. 

If this is a primary belief, we have, for the reasons 
already given, a right to conclude that the thing believed 
is true. 

It may be well to append some few observations, in con- 
firmation of what has been said, and by way of answer to 
objections which might be brought forward. 

1st. Until we come to intelligence, we seem, in all our 
seeking for causes, to have discovered only successions of 
dead and passive motions : we believe that in these there 
is no increase, and also no diminution of force. Con- 
sequently, whilst we are dealing with material causes and 
effects, we believe, and apparently cannot but believe, that 
no increase or diminution of the aggregate of existence 
follows upon the transmutation of causes into effects ; that 
the effects are neither more nor less than the causes put 
together in a new combination. What we have learnt, 
from the tracing of physical effects to their physical causes, 
is merely, that there is a continual flux and change in the 
objects presented to our observation. In the words of 
Hamilton, " there is conceived an absolute tautology be- 
tween the effect and its causes : we think the causes to 
contain all that is contained in the effect ; the effect 

1 If it were, the causa] judgment would only gradually acquire its full 

tunc in proportion as instances had been accumulated. " Hut do we find that 

the causal judgment is weaker in the young, stronger in the old? There is 
no difference. In (it In i case there is no less aud more ; the necessity in both 
is absolute." (Hamilton, Lect. ii., p. 394.) 



CAUSATION. 195 

to contain nothing which was not contained in the 
causes." 1 

2nd. It is maintained by writers of the sensationalist 
school that, when we say one thing is the cause of another, 
we in fact mean no more than that the former invariably 
precedes the latter. This doctrine, were it tenable, would 
overthrow several of the positions above laid down. Is it, 
then, tenable ? 

It must be admitted that outward observation gives us 
nothing more, concerning causes, than uniformity of suc- 
cession. On the theory, therefore, that such observation 
is man's sole avenue to knowledge, we seem compelled to 
conclude, not only that man does not, but that he cannot, 
have any notion of cause which transcends the notion of 
uniformity of succession. But, for those who deny the 
theory in limine, this argument is worthless ; and we have 
to deal with the question of fact, whether it can be esta- 
blished by proof, or can by proof be refuted, that men's 
notion of cause is nothing more than a notion of uniform 
succession. 

Now, in dealing with this question, we should consider 
what it is which a sensationalist means by the term "uni- 
formity." It must, on his own principles, be such a 
uniformity as can be gathered from experience. But ex- 
perience can teach us nothing more than that datum A has 
been followed by datum B a great many times ; whence it 
may be thought likely that datum A will always be followed 
by datum B. This string of observations, coupled with 
this inference, represents the whole of what we mean when 
we say that A is the cause of B. 

If this be so, the question arises, what is the minimum 
number of observations of sequence which will warrant the 

1 Lect. Metaph., vol. ii., p. 377. See this lecture for illustrations of the 
law here stated. 



196 CAUSATION. 

d rawing of the inference here spoken of ? The probability 
that A is the cause of B must be graduated according to 
the frequency of the observed successions. Each single 
additional observation must add some shade of cogency to 
the conclusion. In that case, the first observation must 
have had some — no matter how infinitesimal — weight of 
argument in this direction ; unless we can suppose that 
there is something in the hundred- and-first observation 
which there was not in the first. At every time, then, of 
our observing that one thing follows another, we have some 
slight reason for thinking that the former was the cause of 
the latter ; and at each time when a similar succession is 
repeated, some little is added to the force of the inference. 

This, however, appears to be contradicted by the facts. 
There are unquestionably some successions which, however 
frequently repeated, never suggest to our minds the notion 
of cause and effect. Perhaps we may have heard " God 
save the Queen" a thousand times, and never once have 
heard the first bar unless followed by the second : yet no 
one in his senses ever fancied that the first bar was the 
cause of the second. Reid's difficulty seems conclusive : 
day always follows night, and night day, yet one is never 
thought to be the cause of the other. 1 

Children appear to look for causes, and to act on the 
supposition that every change which affects them must 
have some cause or other, long before they can have ac- 
cumulated such a store of remembered sequences as would 
furnish them with the means of judging whether or no 
certain facts " uniformly" succeed one another. 

It is idle, however, to multiply arguments on this head. 
There is one short, decisive objection to the sensationalist 

1 Mr. Mill has attempted to dispose of this difficulty, but certainly cannot 
be said to have succeeded. His reasoning is i'ully discussed towards the end 
of this chapter. 



CAUSATION. 197 

doctrine concerning causes. Our notion of cause carries 
with it the notion of necessity. We do not, indeed, think 
it necessary that this or that cause should produce this or 
that effect ; but, amongst physical changes, we think it 
necessary that each shall have had some cause. But neces- 
sity transcends experience, and cannot have been given by 
it. Our notion of cause contains, then, something which 
cannot have been given to us by experience alone. 

3rd. Suppose it conceded that our notion of cause con- 
tains or carries with it the notion of force, is it true, it 
may be asked, that our notion of force is restricted to the 
force of intelligent volition ? Are there not other forces, 
which we recognize as existing in external nature as well 
as in ourselves : such, for example, as vital force, or nervous 
energy, in our own bodies ; or as gravitation, the centri- 
fugal and centripetal forces, magnetism, or electricity, in 
bodies external to ourselves ? These, and no doubt others 
like them, are usually thought of by us, not as being the 
mere passive media or transmitters of force, but as being 
forces in themselves, after a fashion more or less analogous 
to the force of volition. It is true that we probably regard 
these forces as having been given to matter, as being 
created, not self-originating ; but we hold precisely the 
same opinion with regard to human volition, if we regard 
ourselves as created beings. Are we justified, then, in 
drawing this sharp distinction between the earth's force of 
gravitation and man's force of volition — in saying that 
the latter is, and the former is not, an originator of 
activity ? 

To this it may be answered : the essential difference be- 
tween the forces here spoken of, and the force of volition, 
appears to reside in the quality of freedom, peculiar to the 
latter. "We seem to be so constituted that, whenever we 
can do so, we refer back the real origin of every change 



198 CAUSATION. 

that takes place to something behind it, which we term its 
cause ; and this process does not stop, and we seem unable 
to stop it, until we reach something which defies us to go 
further. When we have said that bodies gravitate towards 
the earth because of what we call the earth's force of attrac- 
tion, we feel that it is impossible to arrest our inquisitive- 
ness in the search for causes at that point : we go on to 
say, There must be a cause for this so-called force ; either 
the earth possesses a living force, a vitality, of its own, in 
some mysterious manner analogous to the force of volition 
in ourselves ; or else that which we call its force of attrac- 
tion is merely a name for some wholly unknown force, 
which is not in the earth, but operates through and as it 
were from behind it. Thus we find ourselves under a cer- 
tain necessity, either of divesting the earth of force, or of 
investing it with a quasi-human vitality ; our choice lying 
between theism and pantheism. It would be precisely the 
same with human actions, if we could get rid of the belief 
in their freedom. If, by reasoning on the force of habits 
and motives in curtailing human liberty, we could per- 
suade ourselves that all our own actions were actually 
necessitated, we should inevitably cease to consider human 
beings as possessing active force in themselves. Men would 
be automatons; there would be left but one single force 
pervading the universe, viz., the will which keeps in mo- 
tion, or which long ago first set in motion, this clockwork 
which is now mechanically running on. 

Thus it appears that that form of thought which we may 
call the law of cause cannot be arrested in its action until 
it has reached an act of free will. At that point, however, 
there arises a barrier which it cannot overpass. Granted 
freedom of the will, as a truth, and it is impossible that 
an act of will shall have had causes ; or, at any rate, what 
suffices for the present argument, it is impossible, not merely 



CAUSATION. 199 

that we should comprehend how it could have had, but that 
we should really believe that as a matter of fact it has had, 
causes. 1 For, as has been seen, in the causes of a change 
are contained the whole of the effect : to trace an effect to 
its causes is simply to resolve it into its elements — adding 
nothing, taking away nothing ; but in any such resolution 
the element of liberty disappears. 2 

4th. Another objection to the view here put forward may 
be stated as follows :-— 

Let it be granted that we have no right so to extend that 
law of causation which governs matter so as to bring under 
it' acts of volition : that we are not warranted in arguing 
a priori that, because all changes must have causes, therefore 
volitions must have causes. Still, as a matter of fact, prove- 
able by inductive reasoning, can it not be established that 
every act of volition is, we need not say necessarily, but 
invariably, determined by the balance of motive? And, 
supposing the fact proved, may we not say that, even if 
motives only govern our will in the gentle way of persua- 
sion, yet a persuasive power which invariably succeeds in 
persuading, is, in its results at least, closely akin to a power 
which controls ? 

It would be great want of candour not to acknowledge 
that the difficulty here suggested is a very serious one. 
"We can hardly deny that, as reasonable beings, our actions 
are governed by motives : and there seems no reason for 
supposing that we should, at any given moment, elect to 
follow that which at that moment appears to us the weaker 
of two opposing motives. At each moment, therefore — on 

1 It is of course not here intended that such an act cannot have had motives. 
The distinction between a cause and a motive is dealt with a little lower down. 

2 The incompatibility of the two notions, that acts of volition are free, and 
that they are the effects of causes, has been so fully demonstrated in the cele- 
brated work of Jonathan Edwards, that it is unnecessary to say more on the 
subject in this place. Mr. Morell, with all his ability, has in vain attempted 
to pierce the joints in Edwards's reasoning. 



200 



CAUSATION. 



this view — our will must be under the control of a motive ; 
which motive, whether it be the result of external circum- 
stances, or of our own previous habits of mind, is at any 
rate a force external to the particular act of will which is 
then in question. On this view, our wills, though seeming 
free, would not really be so. 

On the other hand, as it would be equally hard to be- 
lieve that the freedom of which we are conscious is illusory, 
we seem almost driven to question the truth of the opinion, 
that acts do always follow the stronger motive. Let us 
consider on what evidence that assertion rests. 

Have we, in fact, any reliable means of testing the com- 
parative strength of conflicting motives, unless we say that 
that must be the stronger which overcomes the other by 
influencing our conduct ? If not, then we shall evidently 
be reasoning in a circle, when, having by this test deter- 
mined which of two motives is the stronger, we use the fact 
of our acting in obedience to it as a proof that we obey the 
stronger motive. It may be remarked that this way of 
reasoning only becomes fallacious when the a priori argu- 
ment — that we must obey the stronger, because acts must 
have causes — is excluded : as it is in the present argument. 

If, then, there is some other way of knowing that all our 
acts of volition are in fact determined by the stronger 
motive, what is that way ? 

We cannot say that we know it by direct consciousness. 
This could only be the case, if a man could say that there 
were no acts of his will in which he was not conscious of 
obeying the stronger motive. This, however, is not so. 
Many of our acts of volition take place without our being 
conscious of any motive whatever. We act, sometimes, 
from what we call impulse, or caprice, or self will: of 
which influences we can give no further account than that 
they seem to be, not properly motives, i.e. not incentives to 



CAUSATION. 201 

action which operate upon the will from without it, but 
rather ways in which the will determines itself. It would 
be a misnomer to call wilfulness a motive of action ; it is 
rather an ebullition of the will itself, — an energy, abnormal 
perhaps, which it puts forth, not an influence external to 
and operating upon it. 

If, then, there are some acts of will which have no 
motive, or none of which we are conscious, or which have 
a motive, the strength of which we do not consciously 
measure against that of the conflicting motives, it cannot 
be said that we know, by direct consciousness, that every 
one of our volitions is determined by the stronger motive. 

Can we say that an act of will which is determined by 
the stronger motive is the most perfect form — the type- — 
of which these irregular acts of wilfulness should be re- 
garded as marred or imperfect fragments ? Apparently 
not. For, although the former kind may be acts of the 
more perfect mind, they are not the most perfect acts of 
will. On the contrary, the peculiar nature of the will is 
most distinctly seen in those acts which most strongly 
exhibit its freedom — i.e. those in which it appears most to 
be emancipated from the control of such external forces as 
motives. 

If, then, the invariable supremacy of motives over will 
is neither demonstrable a priori nor deducible from ex- 
perience, the fact itself may not unreasonably be ques- 
tioned : and, at any rate, it cannot be considered so clear a 
matter of certainty as to justify our inferring from it that 
the sense of freedom, of which we are directly conscious, is 
illusory. 

5th. In conclusion, two objections to the doctrine of free 
will, drawn from theology, may be briefly noticed. 

It is sometimes urged that a real freedom of the human 
will is incompatible with the belief that man is a created 



£02 



CAUSATION. 



being. We are made such and such r our wills and our 
motives have been given to us : we are absolutely nothing, 
except as we have been formed by some external power. 
Everything that is in us comes from without : there can, 
then, be in us no real self- originating force. 

To this it must be answered that what we call creation, 
as applied to the human soul, is something the nature of 
which is absolutely incomprehensible to us. It would be a 
kind of setting limits to Omnipotence, were we to pro- 
nounce it impossible to create beings which should be 
really free. Certainly we cannot comprehend the process: 
that which we call the creation of a soul may be some 
mysterious emanation, entirely dissimilar to the construc- 
tion of a machine. 

The second objection is that man's freedom appears in- 
compatible with God's foreknowledge. 

This difficulty must be answered in a similar manner. 
The true character of God's knowledge of that which 
passes on this globe is a thing so absolutely transcending 
our conception, that we cannot even guess, apart from 
revelation, whether or no it is subject to those limits of 
time which hamper ours. Whether past and future are 
words that have any meaning, when applied to His vision, 
we cannot conjecture. This being so, it would be no less 
vain than presumptuous to draw inferences from our sup- 
posed knowledge of His powers as to their being incom- 
patible with what we know concerning our own. 

I have thought it convenient to postpone to the end of 
this chapter the consideration of the manner in which 
Mr. J. S. Mill, in his book on Logic, has dealt with the 
subject of Causation. If I venture to assert that, on this 
subject, the language of this usually very clear and accurate 
writer is remarkably vague and obscure, and the reasonings 



CAUSATION. 203 

of this usually very powerful reasoner are singularly un- 
satisfactory, it is only because nothing could well furnish 
a stronger illustration, than do these blemishes, of the 
extreme difficulty which besets any attempt to account for 
the phenomena of causality on the principles of the sensa- 
tionalist school. 

Mr. Mill's leading principle, like that of his predecessors, 
is that what we term the relation of cause and effect is 
merely uniformity of sequence between phenomena : the 
belief in a power exerted by the one over the other is an 
opinion which, without absolutely negativing, he sets aside 
as being irrelevant to mundane philosophy. For all the 
purposes of inductive science, he tells us, an adequate con- 
ception of the relation of cause and effect is obtained, in 
such a conception as can be derived from experience ; and 
what that is, he explains in the following terms : — " The 
law of causation, the recognition of which is the main 
pillar of inductive science, is but the familiar truth, that 
invariability of succession is found by observation to obtain 
between every fact in nature and some other fact which 
has preceded it ; independently of all consideration respect- 
ing the ultimate mode of production of phenomena, and of 
every other question regarding the nature of ' Things in 
themselves.' " (Logic, i. 359.) 

What we have to ascertain, if possible, is, the precise 
meaning attached by Mr. Mill himself to the modifying 
clause in this definition — "independently of," etc. ; and 
this we learn a few pages further on in the same volume. 

" When we define," says Mr. Mill, " the cause of any- 
thing (in the only sense in which the present enquiry has 
any concern with causes) to be ' the antecedent which it 
invariably follows/ we do not use this phrase as exactly 
synonymous with 'the antecedent which it invariably has 
followed in our past experience.' Such a mode of con- 



204 CAUSATION. 

ceiving causation would be liable to the objection very 
plausibly urged by Eeid — namely, that according to this 
doctrine night must be the cause of day, and day of 
night; since these phenomena have invariably succeeded 
one another from the beginning of the world. But it is 
necessary to our using the word cause, that we should 
believe, not only that the antecedent always has been 
followed by the consequent, but that, as long as the present 
constitution of things endures, it always will be so. And 
this would not be true of day and night." (pp. 370-371.) 

By the expression "the present constitution of things," 
Mr. Mill in a note explains himself to mean "the ultimate 
laws of nature (whatever they may be) as distinguished 
from the derivative laws and their collocations. The 
diurnal revolution of the earth, for example, is not a part 
of the constitution of things, because nothing can be so 
called which might possibly be terminated or altered by 
natural causes." (p. 371, n.) And, in conformity with this 
view, Mr. Mill proceeds to argue that because it is con- 
ceivable as possible that the earth's rotation might be sus- 
pended, in which case it would be for us always day, or 
always night, " therefore it is that we do not call night the 
cause, nor even a condition, of day." " This," he con- 
tinues, " is what writers mean when they say that the 
notion of cause involves the idea of necessity. If there be 
any meaning which confessedly belongs to the term neces- 
sity, it is un condition alness. That which is necessary, that 
which must be, moans that which will be, whatever sup- 
positions we may make in regard to all other things. The 
succession of day and night evidently is not necessary in 
this sense. It is conditional on the occurrence of other 
antecedents. That which will be followed by a given con- 
sequent when, and only when, some third circumstance also 
ejriste, L8 no! the cause, even though no case should have 



CAUSATION. 205 

ever occurred in which the phenomenon took place without 
it." . . . "Invariable sequence, therefore, is not synony- 
mous with causation, unless the sequence, besides being 
invariable, is unconditional. There are sequences, as uni- 
form in past experience as any others whatever, which yet 
we do not regard as cases of causation, but as conjunctions 
in some sort accidental." (pp. 371, 372). 

The question we have to consider is, whether the above 
" modifying clause," and the concessions with which it is 
explained and developed, do not amount to an entire aban- 
donment of the sensationalist ground,— of that which may be 
termed the leading principle of Mr. Mill's philosophy, viz., 
that all knowledge is made up of experience and induction 
from experience. Viewed in this light, as a virtual, though 
perhaps unconscious, surrender of the cause of sensationalism 
by its most distinguished supporter, the critical examination 
of these sentences becomes a matter of extreme interest. 

" The only notion of a cause which the theory of induc- 
tion requires," says Mr. Mill, " is such a notion as can be 
gained from experience." We have to consider whether 
Mr. Mill's notion of a cause ; as set forth in these extracts, 
is such a notion or not. 

Mere uniformity of sequence, is not, by itself, it appears, 
adequate to the production of this notion of a cause. "There 
are sequences, as uniform in past experience as any other 
whatever, which yet we do not regard as cases of causation." 
What is it, then, which must be added to uniformity of 
sequence, in order to make up our notion of a cause ? This 
additional ingredient, whatever it be, must be a something 
derivable from experience. Mr. Mill informs us that this 
ingredient is a belief that this uniformity of sequence which 
we have observed in time past, will (so long as the present 
constitution of things endures) always continue. This im- 
portant belief, Mr. Mill in his note explains, contains within 



206 



CAUSATION. 



it the element of unconditionalness or necessity. When we 
believe that a thing will always continue, we do so, accord- 
ing to Mr. Mill, because we think it mast continue. Ac- 
cordingly, a little later on, he substitutes the term "un- 
conditionalness" for the belief in future uniformity of 
sequence ; and we learn that " invariable sequence is not 
synonymous with causation, unless the sequence, besides 
being invariable, is unconditional." 

" Unconditionalness," then, in Mr. Mill's sense of that 
word, is a something derivable from experience. 

Does Mr. Mill mean by his term unconditionalness, a 
something which involves the notion of necessity, or not ? 
It is easy to understand the reluctance with which this 
eminent writer would make the admission that it does : and 
it may be admitted that the sentences above quoted do not 
contain an explicit acknowledgment, in so many words, to 
that effect. Yet, if they be not intended to convey that 
impression, what can they mean ? Either unconditional- 
ness must involve necessity, or not. Let us make the 
latter supposition, and on this basis examine Mr. Mill's 
argument. A sequence which is both invariable and un- 
conditional is the sequence of cause and effect. A sequence 
may be unconditional without being necessary. Because 
it is conceivable as possible that the sequence of night and 
day might be suspended, therefore we do not consider this 
to be a sequence of cause and effect. But here at once 
we come to a flaw in our logic. " Because it is conceivable 
as possible ? " That, of which the contrary 13 conceivable 
as possible, is not necessary. But to say that a sequence 
is not a sequence of cause and effect, merely because it is 
not a necessary sequence, is inconsistent with what was said 
before : we should be able to say that it is not an uncon- 
ditional sequence ; and a sequence may, it is assumed, bo 
unconditional without being necessary. This seems to 



CAUSATION. 207 

show, either that Mr. Mill is illogical (which is absurd) or 
that he cannot hold that a sequence may be unconditional 
without being necessary. Indeed his own language appears 
to place this latter position beyond doubt. " That which is 
necessary, that which must be, means that which will be, 
whatever suppositions we may make in regard to all other 
things." This definition of necessity would serve equally 
well, apparently, to define Mr. Mill's meaning of the word 
unconditionalness. Unconditionalness is at any rate in- 
cluded in necessity. "If there be any meaning which 
confessedly belongs to the term necessity, it is uncondi- 
tionalness." And, if the sentence above quoted be, as it 
seems to be, intended as a definition of the term necessity, 
there is nothing more in it than unconditionalness. The 
two terms, then, as used by Mr. Mill, are identical. 

This being so, Mr. Mill appears to have arrived at the 
conclusion that the notion of cause involves two ingredients : 
uniformity of sequence, and necessity ; and that both of 
these are gained from experience. 

The word " ought," according to Bentham, should only 
be used once, viz., to afiirm that the word itself "ought" 
to be banished from the vocabulary. A reader of Mr. Mill 
would naturally expect this writer to be not less chary in 
his use of the word "necessary;" since he has expended 
vast pains and ingenuity to convince us that the thing 
denoted by that word is in all cases an illusion and no 
more. Even with regard to those objects of thought which 
by the common consent of mankind in all ages have been 
regarded as the most strongly stamped with the character 
of necessity, — even with regard to the truths of pure mathe- 
matics, — Mr. Mill pronounces that the necessity we attri- 
bute to them is a mere illusory opinion, resulting from an 
incapacity of the mind to separate in thought two notions 
or representations, which have always come before it con- 



208 CAUSATION. 

jointly, and have never once in fact been given to it 
separately. 

What makes the matter perhaps still more singular is, 
that these two dicta, — that causation involves necessity, and 
that necessity is mere illusion, — are both to be found in the 
same volume, and have not a very large number of pages 
interposed to keep the peace between them. There is no 
occasion to travel outside of the first volume of Mill's Logic 
for our references. 

Having stated (Logic, p. 242) that all reasoning is, or is 
reducible to, induction from particulars, and (p. 240) that 
general propositions are mere formulae for assisting in this 
process, Mr. Mill proceeds, in a subsequent chapter, to 
reply to the objection urged by Dr. Whewell, that some 
conceptions, e.g. the axioms of pure mathematics, are held 
by us to be not only true, but necessary. " Experience," 
Dr. Whewell had said, "cannot offer the smallest ground 
of the necessity of a proposition. She can observe and 
record what has happened ; but she cannot find, in any 
case, or in any accumulation of cases, any reason for what 
must happen. To have a proposition by experience, and 
to see it to be necessarily true, are two altogether different 
processes of thought. " 

Now let us see in what manner Mr. Mill answers this 
difficulty ; because, in the manner of his doing so, we shall 
scarcely fail to discover what it is that he understands by 
the expression that a belief is necessary. 

He answers it, not by denying that there is a so-called 
necessity about the axioms, but by maintaining that the 
"necessity" is a mere illusory opinion, resulting from an 
incapacity, under which the human mind labours, of sepa- 
rating in thought combinations which have always been 
conjoined in experience. We call a thing necessary, he 
says, when we are unable to conceive its being otherwise ; 



CAUSATION. 209 

and we are unable to conceive its being otherwise, if, after 
frequent experience, we have always found the thing thus 
and not otherwise. " "When we have often seen and thought 
of two things together/' he says, "and have never in any 
one instance either seen or thought of them separately, 
there is, by the primary law of association, an increasing 
difficulty, which may in the end become insuperable, of 
conceiving the two things apart." (p. 268.) " What won- 
der if the acquired incapacity should be mistaken for a 
natural incapacity ?" (p. 270.) And Mr. Mill is convinced 
that nothing more is requisite, than a moderate familiarity 
with the elementary laws of association, "to dispel the 
illusion which ascribes a peculiar necessity to our earliest 
inductions from experience/' (pp. 272, 273) 

According to Mr. Mill, then, we are so constituted by 
our nature, that when, of two given things or events, one 
has very frequently been accompanied or followed by 
another, and this companionship has never once been 
broken in upon by an exception, we are constrained to fall 
into the illusory opinion, that an exception is impossible — 
that the sequence is necessary : and this is an illusion or 
weakness which grows upon us, being strengthened by 
each repetition of the observed sequence, until at length it 
becomes too strong to be shaken off; and then we are 
inflexibly settled in the melancholy delusion. It is in this 
way that we come to the erroneous convictions, that two and 
two are necessarily (and not merely very often) four ; that 
the same thing cannot in the same sense both be and not 
be ; that equals added to equals are (not merely for the most 
part, but inevitably) equal ; and the like. 

Unfortunately, on this view of the matter, Mr. Mill's 
whole argument about causation breaks down suddenly. 
For, if this be so, what right can we possibly have to 
maintain that the earth's diurnal revolution round the sun, 

14 



210 CArSATION. 

or the succession of night and day, is one of those things 
which might possibly have been otherwise ? The thing 
has constantly been observed to be thus, and no living 
man's experience and no record — unless Mr. Mill would 
rest his argument upon the solitary recorded instance in 
the Old Testament — has furnished one instance to the 
contrary. How is it, then, that Mr. Mill has in his own 
person escaped the influence of that "acquired incapacity " 
to which he subj ects the human species ? In spite of an 
accumulation of uniform experience which one would think 
must, on Mr. Mill's principles, be adequate for the pur- 
pose, it has not happened to him to have become inflexibly 
settled in the delusion that that which has frequently and 
invariably taken place must necessarily take place. This 
certainly appears somewhat strange. 

There is, then, it appears, an inconsistency between 
Mr. Mill's doctrine about necessity when it is applied to 
causation and when it is applied to the axioms of mathe- 
matics or to any other subject. Invariableness of sequence, 
however long continued, is not of itself enough to engender 
the notion of cause and effect ; there must likewise enter 
in the ingredient of necessity. This very necessity, how- 
ever, when examined, proves only to be invariableness of 
sequence under another name ; for whatsoever in it is more 
than such invariableness is only an illusory opinion, result- 
ing from an "acquired incapacity" of our minds. Even 
this illusory opinion does not in any degree serve to remove 
Reid's old difficulty concerning day and night. Thus the 
elaborate and ingeniously constructed argument falls to 
pieces. 

This little criticism of Mr. Mill's theory of causation 
cannot better be dismissed than in Mr. Mill's own words, 
altering merely the application: — "If what is said by" 
Mr. Mill "in .support of an opinion which he has made 



CAUSATION". 211 

the foundation of a systematic work, can be shown not to 
be conclusive, enough will have been done, without going 
further to seek stronger arguments and a more powerful 
adversary." 



212 



CHAPTEE VIII. 

HAMILTON'S "PHILOSOPHY OF THE 
UNCONDITIONED." 

Having now gone through the several Forms of Thought, 
it only remains, in order to bring this Part to a close, that 
we examine Hamilton's celebrated Theory of the Uncon- 
ditioned ; which, if adopted, would lead us to conclusions 
very much at variance with those here come to. 

Hamilton's theory of the Unconditioned, having been 
made the basis of Mr. Mansel's metaphysical or theological 
system, has been used for purposes, and taken to support 
conclusions, which I dare say would not a little have startled 
its author. With these, however, we have at present 
nothing to do. We are to examine Hamilton's doctrine, 
as a mere abstract question of metaphysics. 

Hamilton's doctrine may briefly be summed up as fol- 
lows : — 

The powers of the human mind are strictly limited to the 
finite and the relative. The only things which we can 
positively " construe to our minds" are such as have limits 
and have relations. That mental process which we miscall 
thinking of the infinite is, properly, the mere negation of 
thought : it is the withdrawing of our minds from those 
conditions under which alone thought is possible. The 
finite and the relative Hamilton classes together under the 
term " conditioned ; " the infinite and the absolute together 
make up the " unconditioned." The conditioned is cogit- 
able ; the unconditioned is incogitable. 



Hamilton's " philosophy of the unconditioned." 213 

From this impotency of our minds — for such he expressly 
terms it 1 — Hamilton explains the origin of our notion of 
cause. It being out of our power to form the notion of 
absolute beginning, we are, whenever anything appears to 
begin, constrained to suppose that every one of its ingre- 
dients must have previously existed in some other com- 
bination, and thus we get to its causes. 

Notwithstanding this inability to think the infinite or 
absolute, we are yet, according to Hamilton, from the con- 
stitution of our logical faculties, "inspired with a belief in 
the existence of something unconditioned beyond the sphere 
of all reprehensible reality." (Discussions, p. 15). The 
sphere of faith is thus more extensive than the sphere of 
reason. 

The reasoning by which these conclusions are supported 
may be arranged under the following heads : — 

1. It is urged that the infinite and the absolute cannot 
be represented by the imagination ; and consequently, for 
reasons which must be examined, cannot be apprehended 
in thought. 

2. It is urged that whenever an attempt to reason about 
the infinite, — e.g. in the very simple process of comparing 
the quantities of two infinites — we fall into contradictions 
and absurdities ; which fact appears to demonstrate, either 
that our mental faculties are not trustworthy, or else that 
we are using them out of their legitimate sphere ; of which 
suppositions the latter is the more reasonable. 

3. All matter of thought must first be given to us, either 
from without, through experience, or from within, by self- 
consciousness. But there is nothing infinite, either in what 
we experience, or in the fabric of our own natures. Thus 
there is no source from whence a notion of the infinite can 
be furnished to our minds. 

1 Lectures, Metaph. ii. 397. 



214 



Let us take these arguments in order. 

1st. The infinite is unimaginable, and consequently in- 
cogitable. 

" We cannot positively represent, or realise, or construe 
to the mind," — says Hamilton — " (as here understanding 
and imagination coincide) an infinite whole ; for this could 
only be done by the infinite synthesis in thought of finite 
wholes, which would itself require an infinite time for its 
accomplishment. Nor, for the same reason, can we follow 
out in thought an infinite divisibility of parts. The result 
is the same, whether we apply the process to limitation in 
space, in time, or in degree. The unconditional negation, 
and the unconditional affirmation, of limitation, — in other 
words, the infinite and the absolute, properly so called, are 
thus absolutely inconceivable to us." (Discussions, p. 13). 

" Is the absolute conceivable of time ? Can we conceive 
time as unconditionally limited ? "We can easily represent 
to ourselves time under any relative commencement and 
termination ; but we are conscious to ourselves of nothing 
more clearly than that it would be equally possible to think 
without thought as to construe to the mind an absolute 
commencement, or an absolute termination, of time ; that 
is, a beginning and an end, beyond which, time is con- 
ceived as non-existent. Goad imagination to the utmost, 
it still shrinks paralysed within the bounds of time ; and 
time survives as the condition of the thought itself in which 
we annihilate the universe : 

• Sur lcs moudes detruits le Temps dort immobile.' 
But if the absolute be inconceivable of this form, is the 
infinite more comprehensible? Can we imagine time as 
unconditionally unlimited? We cannot conceive the in- 
finite regress of time; for such a notion could only be 
realized by the infinite addition in thought of finite times, 
and such an addition would itself require an eternity for 



PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONDITIONED." 215 

its accomplishment. . If we dream of effecting this, we only 
deceive, ourselves by substituting the indefinite for the in- 
finite,, than which no two notions can be more opposed/' 
(ib. pp. 29, 30). 

Let us examine, first, the concluding paragraph. "We 
cannot conceive an infinite regress of time." That is, in 
other words, we cannot think such a regress. Why ? Be- 
cause such a notion could only be " realized " by the pro- 
cess of measuring time backwards to infinity. By this 
term " realized/' however, can only here be meant realized 
to the imagination. We know what we mean by the term 
" a million : " we must therefore have some thought which 
corresponds to the term : yet, in order thus to realize the 
notion a million, we ought, it seems, to count a million. 
Must we do this every time we wish to make use of the 
notion? Every man's experience satisfies him that he has 
a more compendious way of thinking a million. But per- 
haps this is because he has once counted a million, and can 
remember the process ? Is it the fact, however, that we 
can think, or have a distinct notion of, no greater number 
than the greatest we have ever counted ? It is true that 
our power of imagination, , as applied to numbers, is very 
limited: but we appear to have another more abstract way 
of grasping numbers by pure thought. Why may it not 
be the same with regard to infinites ? 

Infinity, as applied to duration, does not appear to be 
thought by any process of counting, or otherwise accumu- 
lating, finite durations, and then leaving off from exhaus- 
tion or indolence. The thought appears to be derived from 
that form of the conjunction of thoughts already spoken of 
as the basis of the logical form or axiom of contradiction. 
Of every object of thought, without exception, we are under 
the necessity of thinking that it either is or is not. The 
object and its negation or contradictory are both implicitly 



216 Hamilton's 

presented to our minds in the same act of thought. "We 
do not, indeed, necessarily think of both as true, or exist- 
ing, or even as possibly existing ; but the thought of one 
carries with it the thought, as a bare concept, of the other. 
We cannot have the notion of limitation without in the 
same act having its correlative, the notion of non-limitation. 

It must be conceded, then, that, as our notion of a limit 
is positive, our notion of its opposite, infinity, is a negative 
notion. A negative notion is, as has been seen, absolutely 
unpicturable to the imagination. Reasons have already 
been given, however, for holding that a negative notion is 
a true thought, not the negation of thinking. 

On this point the reasoning of Hamilton appears to be 
singularly inconclusive. 

" Correlatives," he writes, "certainly suggest each other ; 
but correlatives may, or may not, be equally real and 
positive. In thought, contradictories necessarily imply 
each other, for the knowledge of contradictories is one. 
But the reality of one contradictory, so far from guaran- 
teeing the reality of the other, is nothing else than its 
negation. Thus every positive notion (the concept of a 
thing by what it is), suggests a negative notion (the con- 
cept of a thing by what it is not) ; and the highest positive 
notion, the notion of the conceivable, is not without its 
corresponding negative in the notion of the inconceivable. 
But though these mutually suggest each other, the positive 
alone is real ; the negative is only an abstraction of the 
other, and, in the highest generality, even an abstraction 
of thought itself. ,> (Discuss, p. 28.) 

In this passage there surely is a confounding of reality 
of existence with reality as an object of thought. If a 
positive notion suggests a corresponding negative notion, 
both are notions : or what is the meaning of the words 
used by Hamilton himself ? It is true that if we think 



217 

the positive to be that which truly belongs to some par- 
ticular object — i.e. to be real and true — we cannot at the 
same instant think that its negative also belongs in the 
same sense to the same object; and so far it is true that 
the reality of the one contradictory is the negation of the 
other. If Hamilton means to go further, and to say that 
the act of thinking the one is incompatible with the faculty 
to think the other, what can he mean by saying that the 
one notion necessarily suggests the other ? It is almost in 
the same breath saying that a thing necessarily does that 
which it is impossible for it to do. 

To return to the passage under review. The same 
answer may be made to what Hamilton argues concerning 
the inconceivability of an "infinite whole" and an "infinite 
divisibility of parts." If these notions are to be presented 
in a pictorial form to the imagination, it may be conceded 
that the thing is impossible, for want of an infinite time in 
which to carry out the process on Hamilton's method. 
But if we can think of, e.g. space as a whole, and as infi- 
■nite, it is not easy to see why these two notions should not 
be combined, and then we should have, not an image 
indeed, but the notion, of an infinite whole. 

We cannot, it is certainly true, conceive time as uncon- 
ditionally limited : for as has already been seen, time is 
believed by us to be infinite. Precisely because we do 
think time as infinite and as necessarily infinite, we cannot 
hold the contradictory belief that time is finite. But this 
inability results, apparently, from no incapacity on our 
part to conceive such a thing as an absolute beginning. 
It is not that absolute commencement is in itself incon- 
ceivable, but that it cannot be believed in with reference 
to time. For, we do conceive absolute beginning, when- 
ever we think of a volition as actually free. There is, in 
such an act, a something — as has already been seen — 



218 

which cannot be resolved into causes — cannot be traced 
further back. This unknown something, then, which is 
the most essential peculiarity in an act of will, and gives 
it its character of a force in itself, is a species of absolute 
beginning. It is like a new creation, of which we are 
conscious within ourselves when we put forth the energy 
of a volition. If this be so, it is not necessary for the 
present purpose to affirm that the doctrine of free will is 
true : it is enough that it may be conceived of as possibly 
true. The fact of its existing as a bare hypothesis, or as 
an object of thought in however questionable a shape, is 
enough to. prove that it is possible for the human mind to 
frame the notion of an absolute commencement. 

But there is one portion of Hamilton's argument which 
has not yet been dealt with — namely the parenthesis "as 
here understanding and imagination coincide." It is 
pretty clear, from other passages in Sir W. Hamilton's 
writings, some of which have been quoted in the earlier 
part of this volume, that this philosopher is not of the 
opinion of those who altogether limit the thinkable to the 
imaginable. He suggests the borrowing from Germany of 
a distinct set of terms, to mark the distinction between 
those processes of thought which deal with imaginable 
objects, and those which do not. What peculiarity is 
there, then, about "the infinite" or "the absolute," which 
should oblige us to hold that here understanding and 
imagination coincide ? 

To clear up this matter, Hamilton appends a note to his 
parenthesis, which is as follows : — 

"The understanding, thought proper, notion, concept, 
etc., may coincide or not with imagination, representation 
proper, image, etc. The two faculties do not coincide in a 
general notion : for we cannot represent man or horse in 
an actual image, without individualising the universal, and 



219 

thus contradiction emerges. But in the individual, say 
Socrates or Bucephalus, they do coincide ; for I see no 
valid ground why we should not think, in the strict sense 
of the word, or conceive, the individuals which we represent. 
In like manner, there is no mutual contradiction between 
the image and the concept of the infinite or the absolute, 
if these be otherwise possible ; for there is not necessarily 
involved the incompatibility of the one act of cognition 
with the other." (Discussions, p. 13, n.) 

This passage deserves careful study ; not merely from 
the weight which must be attached to every dictum of this 
profound thinker, but more especially because it is the only 
passage, so far as I am aware, throughout his works, in 
which he explicitly gives a reason for holding that, because 
the infinite is unimaginable, therefore it is incogitable. 

For the purpose of Hamilton's main argument, it evi- 
dently is requisite that he should here establish, between 
the two operations of imagining the infinite and thinking 
the infinite, a coincidence of such a nature that, if the one 
could be proved impossible, it must follow that the other 
would be impossible likewise. No coinciding, short of this, 
would suffice. For, the scope of his argument is as fol- 
lows: he proves that we cannot imagine the infinite, and 
he then infers that we cannot think the infinite, because 
the two operations, supposing both possible, would neces- 
sarily coincide. It is evident that there is a flaw in the 
argument, unless the coinciding be such as above described : 
for, if we were to grant that the two operations, supposing 
both possible, must necessarily coincide in some other 
sense — e.g. as both covering the same ground, so as not to 
be separately apprehended — we might grant every one of 
Hamilton's premisses, and still be as far off from his con- 
clusion as when we began. His argument would be no 
stronger than if one were to reason that because men 



220 

who see with both, eyes see objects single — the vision of 
one eye coinciding with that of the other — therefore a man 
who loses the sight of his right eye cannot possibly see 
at all. 

As regards some objects of thought, viz., general notions? 
Hamilton recognizes a mode of mental apprehension which 
is different from imagining. It must be so, he reasons, 
because it is certain that we somehow have such notions — 
and no less certain that we cannot have them in the way 
of imagining, because, if we attempt to make an image of 
such a notion, "contradiction emerges.'' This seems very 
evident. Is it, however, equally certain that the converse 
holds good ? Have we the right to infer that, when we 
have a notion of such a kind as that contradiction would 
not emerge were we to represent it in an image, therefore 
the notion is the image and nothing else ? Once grant 
that there is a faculty of thinking, distinct from the faculty 
of imagining, and there seems no reason for supposing that 
the former faculty is strictly limited in its operation to 
those objects of cognition which cannot be grasped by the 
latter. It may be that, while each has its own special 
field, out of reach of the other, there is also a large extent 
of ground common to both. If I can think that which I 
cannot imagine, it is at least by no means impossible that I 
can think that which I can imagine. If any reason what- 
ever can be suggested why the existence of such a power 
should be deemed even improbable, I can see no other but 
the law of parsimony. It being acknowledged unphilo- 
sophical to postulate two faculties for doing work which 
can efficiently be done by one of them, we ought not, it 
may be argued, to suppose ourselves capable of appre- 
hending by thought that which we can equally well appre- 
hend by imagination. But the law of parsimony cannot 
be appealed to on Hamilton's side in the present question. 



221 

For, the basis of his argument being that the infinite can- 
not be imagined, it is of course out of his power to argue 
that the law of parsimony forbids us to suppose that it can 
be thought, on the ground that there would be two faculties 
to do the same work. If he admits that there is a faculty 
complementary to that of imagining, which comes into 
play when we are dealing with one class of objects of 
thought which cannot be adequately imagined, or which 
cannot be imagined without the emerging of contradiction 
— viz., general notions — why should he pronounce it im- 
possible that this same faculty should have the power of 
dealing with another class of objects which, he holds, can- 
not be imagined at all — viz., infinites ? 

On the whole, then, it appears that the first of the three 
arguments above enumerated — viz., that the infinite is 
incogitable, because unimaginable, is not tenable 1 . Let 
us see how it will fare with the second. 

2nd. Whenever we attempt to reason about infinites, 
we fall into absurdities and contradictions; whence we 
may properly infer that we are out of our depth. 

For example : if we think of time as infinite, and yet 
as being broken at a point— e.g., at this moment — we shall 
have the triple contradiction, of an infinite concluded, of 

1 If it were true that what cannot be imagined cannot be thought, we 
should be driven to adopt Hume's singular paradoxes concerning space. 
Space, argues Hume, must be composed of ultimate particles, each one of 
which, so far from being infinitely divisible, cannot be divided below the 
point at which our senses can apprehend it. As there is a minimum visibile 
of space, so there is a minimum cogitabile. For, all our objects of thought 
consist, says Hume, of impressions and ideas — i.e. presentations and repre- 
sentations. Ideas are intuitive reproductions of impressions. Where there has 
not first been a corresponding impression there can be no idea. We have 
then no idea of any part of space so small that it cannot be apprehended 
through the senses; otherwise we should have an idea not preceded by a 
corresponding impression. But space, for our reason, exists as it is perceived 
or thought ; and that which can neither be perceived or thought by the human 
mind, must by the human mind be considered as non-existent. Consequently, 
a mathematical point is inconceivable and a nonentity. (Hum. Nat. i. 65-75.) 



222 Hamilton's "philosophy of the unconditioned." 

an infinite commencing, and of two infinites not exclusive 
of each other (Disc. p. 30, Hansel's Bamp. Lect. 301-3). 
If the two portions, time past and time future, are both 
infinite, they must be equal to each other ; each must also 
be equal to the whole ; for infinites are equal ; consequently, 
a half is equal to the whole. Mr. Mansel, pushing arith- 
metic into theology, as some less orthodox speculators have 
done with less eulogy, suggests the following difficulty : — 
When God created the universe, was the sum total of 
existence greater than before ? Impossible, for then you 
would have a greater then infinity. The universe there- 
fore = zero. 

All which difficulties melt away in a moment, if we 
once recognize the principle laid down in a previous 
chapter — viz., that quantity, and therefore those rules 
of arithmetic which have to do with the comparison 
of quantities, have, and can have, no relation to infinity. 
The arguments in support of this principle have already 
been set forth; and it is apparent at a glance, that all 
the so-called reasoning about infinites, of which specimens 
are given in the preceding paragraph, involves this ille- 
gitimate process of subjecting the infinite to measures 
of quantity. It is not because the infinite is incogi table, 
but because it is immeasurable, that this way of dealing 
with it lands us in absurdities. 

3rd. The third argument, that our minds, being finite, 
are inadequate to apprehend the infinite, is one that can 
hardly be said to have been explicitly stated by ITamilton, 
though something of the kind is here and there hinted at. 
But the argument is one that may not unnaturally suggest 
itself to some minds, and it may therefore not be amiss 
to take notice of it. 

It is not very easy to understand in what sense our 
minds arc said to be "finite." If it is because the 



Hamilton's * philosophy of the unconditioned. " 223 

objects of our thought are exclusively finite objects, 
the assertion, it is evident, is a mere begging of the 
question. Of the essence of our mind we know nothing, 
except so far as we have observed its workings and can 
thence infer its powers. To enable us, then, to pronounce 
that the mind of man is limited, it would be necessary 
for us to have reached those limits, and taken a complete 
measure of it, as it were, from the outside. Whether or no 
such an operation would require an intelligence superior 
to that of man, — as that which measures must be greater 
than that which is measured, — it is enough here to say 
that such a complete and final mensuration of the facul- 
ties of the human mind, as should authorize us to pro- 
nounce that it is bounded on every side by a limit, 
has not yet been made. We are not therefore at 
present warranted in afiirming that the human mind 
is finite. 

Supposing this fact were established, however, it would 
still remain to be proved that the finite cannot appre- 
hend the infinite. The proposition seems to be exactly 
analogous to the supposed axiom, long in vogue, and 
to which are to be traced so many of the wanderings of 
metaphysics — that mind cannot directly apprehend, or 
come in contact with, matter. However little we may 
comprehend how it should be, it does appear to be the 
fact that the mind can apprehend, or come into contact 
with, objects which are of a nature different from its own ; 
the non-material can apprehend the material ; what right, 
then, have we to assume that the finite cannot apprehend 
the infinite ? 

In thinking of the infinite, when it is regarded as a 
negative thought, the matter is given to us from within 
ourselves ; being contained, as has been already seen, 
in that law of " excluded middle/' which constrains us 



224 Hamilton's " philosophy of the unconditioned." 

to supplement every thought with the thought of its 
contradictory. 

Thus it appears that none of the three arguments by 
which Hamilton's theory is defended is proof against objec- 
tion. Because the infinite cannot be imagined, it does not 
follow that it cannot be thought. Because we are driven 
into absurdities so soon as we attempt to measure the 
quantities of infinites, it follows, indeed, that the infinite is 
immeasurable, but not that it is incogitable. That finite 
minds can comprehend only objects that are finite, is a 
pure assumption. 

In conclusion, let us consider how Hamilton's theory of 
the conditioned explains the phenomena of causality. 

It is out of our power, according to Hamilton, to grasp 
in thought the notion of an absolute beginning. But 
relative or phenomenal beginnings we constantly witness 
in common experience. How are these two things to be 
reconciled? By the supposition that the thing which 
appears to us to be now beginning to exist, did in reality 
exist previously in a different combination, i.e. , every one 
of its ingredients existing, and that which is new being 
merely the piecing together of its parts in this deter- 
minate manner. " But to say that a thing previously 
existed under different forms, is only in other words to 
say, that a thing had causes." (See Lectures, vol. ii. pp. 
407-8.) 1 

Now it is obvious that this account of the matter reduces 
our notion of causation to one of mere sequence. That 
which this notion really contains over and above the notion 

1 " As all distinct Ldeafi OZe separable from one another, ami as llie ideas of 
cause ami (fleet are evidently distinct, 'twill be easy lor 08 to conceive any 

objeel to be aon-existenl this moment, and existent the aext, without conjoin- 
ing to it the distind idea of a cause or productive principle. The separation, 

therefore, of the idea of a cause from that of a beginning of existence is 
plainly possible lor the imagination." (Hume, Hum. Nat. i. 143.) 



HAMILTON S 

of sequence- — viz., as has been already seen, a notion of 
active power — is, on Hamilton's theory, altogether ignored 
and left out of sight. A notion of antecedence, even of 
necessary antecedence, in the cause, such as that which he 
suggests, entirely fails to account for, as indeed it does not 
contain, the notion of power. The insufficiency of such a 
view of causation to account for the phenomena of our 
consciousness on this subject, has already been pretty fully 
pointed out. That this should have escaped Sir W. Hamil- 
ton is the more surprising, when it is considered that he 
quotes with approbation, and seems to adopt as the expres- 
sion of his own opinion, a passage in which Professor 
Wilson brings forward, and strongly urges by way of 
answer to Brown, the incompleteness of any theory of 
causation which shall have excluded the notion of active 
power. (Lect., vol. ii. pp. 383, 384.) 

Such are some of the objections which stand in the way 
of an acceptance of Hamilton's theory of the unconditioned. 

It is perhaps hardly necessary to add, in conclusion, 
that nothing which has here been said is intended to imply 
that the infinite can be comprehended by human intel- 
ligence : nor yet, that we can comprehend the mode in 
which the attributes of infinity can exist in a person ; or 
that we can a priori construct a system according to which 
absolute Being must work. In the preceding pages has 
been exhibited a philosophy of much less lofty pretensions 
than those of Schelling or Hegel. We have been content 
to acknowledge that, even of our own natures, the essence 
is a mystery to ourselves : and it would certainly be a 
ludicrous degree of arrogance were men in one breath to 
pronounce themselves unable to fathom the nature of man, 
and capable of fathoming that of his Maker. With much 
of what Mr. Mansel has written on this subject I entirely 
concur. I believe, however — and for the reasons which 

15 



have been given in this chapter — that Mr. Mansel, who on 
this part of his subject appeared to follow Sir W. Hamilton, 
has, like the latter, gone too far in affirming that the in- 
finite is, not simply incomprehensible, but incogitable. In 
truth, if I mistake not, this writer has not always carefully 
distinguished these two propositions from one another ; nor 
has he once attempted to explain how it is possible for a 
man to believe that which he cannot cognize, or grasp as a 
bare object of thought. The sceptical conclusions which 
necessarily flow from this excessive limitation of the powers 
of thought make me feel, I must confess, a somewhat 
unphilosophical hope that it may have been successfully 
combated in the foregoing pages. 



227 



CONCLUSION. 
PRIMAEY BELIEFS IN RELATION TO THEOLOGY. 



CHAPTEE I. 

THE PROVINCE OP EEVEALED KELIGIOJST. 

Up to this point we have been dealing exclusively with 
the Pure, as distinguished from the Applied, Philosophy of 
Primary Beliefs. Supposing the leading doctrines of this 
philosophy to be accepted, if only provisionally as probably 
true, the next thing to be done would be, to test the value 
of them, by applying them to some definite province of 
scientific inquiry, such as the science of ethics or politics, 
and examining how far these principles were found prac- 
tically useful, as aiding our researches in these sciences. 
I can at present only hope that such a work may at some 
future time be undertaken by some one who may have the 
leisure and the capacity for it. 

All that I can venture to propose to myself in this direc * 
tion is to set down some few observations on the applica- 
tion of this philosophy to certain questions in theology, 
upon which it seems to have a direct bearing. And I shall 
begin with a notice of the manner in which the doctrine of 
primary beliefs bears upon the great question, — what is the 
true province of revealed religion ? 

We, living in a Christian community, have been taught 
to believe that certain truths as to matters of fact, certain 



228 THE PROVINCE OF EEVEALED RELIGION. 

rules of conduct, and certain promises with reference to the 
future destination of the soul, have been given to the human 
race, through supernatural means, by a direct revelation 
from God, recorded in certain writings, and in some man- 
ner intrusted to the keeping of an organization called a 
church. 

Let us suppose the case of a man who shall have so far 
emancipated himself from the impressions derived from 
early education as to stand apart, and to contemplate the 
Christian religion as it were from the outside, as a mere 
spectator. He shall have said to himself: I am at this 
moment a heathen — an unbeliever ; let me see whether 
this religion can convert me. There was a time when all 
the world was in this condition ; and the world, or at any 
rate the most highly cultivated portion of it, passed from 
this condition to Christianity. This religion, if it be such 
as it professes to be, must have the power, not merely, by 
the force of habit or similar motives, to retain those who 
have never questioned its authority, but also to draw back 
to itself those who in good faith have done so. Let me 
see, therefore, in what manner it will draw back me. 

Further, let us suppose our inquirer to be penetrated 
with a conviction of the truth of that body of opinions to 
which has here been given the name of the philosophy of 
primary beliefs. He is persuaded that there are implanted 
within his nature certain germs, which the experience of 
life necessarily develops into beliefs ; and that the autho- 
rity of the beliefs thus developed is so far paramount to all 
other authority as that he cannot, without falling into the 
most absolute scepticism, accept as true anything which 
distinctly contradicts them. 

To a man who is in this frame of mind the question con- 
cerning the Christian religion will naturally take the fol- 
lowing shape : — Are my primary beliefs adequate in them- 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 229 

selves to satisfy the needs of my spiritual nature ; or do 
they lead me to recognize a need for some revelation, ex- 
ternal to myself, and which shall in a manner supplement 
and supply the deficiencies of them ? In the former case, 
I may be well content still to stand aloof from revealed 
religion ; for I may say that I do not want it. I may no 
doubt be even in that case willing to receive it, from mo- 
tives of convenience, or out of accommodation to weaker 
natures, or because I think the grosser incentives of a 
religion which attracts the populace may be conducive to 
the order or well-being of a State, or from some other mo- 
tives of convenience analogous to these ; but it will not, in 
any high sense, be a religion for my own use. In the 
latter case, — if I recognize a deficiency or need such as 
that here spoken of, — I shall have to inquire further ; 
it may then be possible for me really to become a 
Christian. 

The first question is, therefore, whether the philosophy 
of primary beliefs does or does not lead a man to recognize 
the need of a revelation. 

There is, as I believe, a line of thought — probably not 
the only one — which ought to lead a man who shall con- 
sider the question from this point of view to give an 
affirmative answer to it. This line of argument may be 
summed up as follows : — 1. It is reasonable to believe that 
the development of the human soul is a process which 
transcends the conditions of a lifetime ; 2, that develop- 
ment consists in the realization of an ideal type or pattern ; 
3, the realization of that ideal type is enjoined upon men 
by an instinct of duty; 4, such realization is impossible, 
without a certain discarding or cancellation of a man's past 
life, in a manner corresponding to that which is known to 
the Christian religion under the term regeneration ; 5, this 
regeneration is a something which transcends reason in 



230 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

such a manner as to be unattainable except by means of 
a supernatural revelation. 

On each of these heads it will be necessary to say a few 
words. 

It may be well to begin with some considerations which 
seem to show that the potential self, I do not say of men of 
genius, or persons of exceptional powers whether of intellect 
or poetical or artistic sensibility, but of any ordinary person, 
is of far too large proportions to be completely evolved in one 
lifetime, or by the education afforded in any single capacity 
as a member of the human society. I do not know that 
the establishing of this position is really essential for the 
support of the reasoning which is to follow ; further than 
as that extension of the sphere of the soul's possible self- 
development, which is given in the prospect of an existence 
prolonged after death, brings with it an immeasurably in- 
creased breadth, importance, and solemnity to our view of 
this great work of inner self-development. 

Reasons have already been given for holding the opinion 
that what is called the formation of a man's character is a 
process, not merely or chiefly of accretion or accumulation 
from without, but principally of development; that is to 
say, of bringing forth into the light of consciousness that 
which potentially but latently existed from the outset. 
Behind or beneath the conscious character, there is a force 
dormant until aroused by some appropriate stimulus, but 
which, when thus aroused, reveals its existence by putting 
forth manifestations which may be wholly new and strange 
even to the man's self. Thus it happens that a man be- 
comes something which he never imagined or intended 
that he would be ; capabilities and perhaps deficiencies 
gradually revealing themselves to him as he lives on. 

Can we hold, as some have done, that this inner self is 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 231 

one and the same for all men, — that the difference betwixt 
man and man consists merely in the different manner or 
degree in which this one common essence happens to 
have been developed in one and in another? Is it true 
that anybody one may pick up in the street has within him 
the germs of an Aristotle or a Shakespeare, and has only 
education, or the structure of his brain — a mere mechanical 
impediment — to complain of, if his actual thoughts and 
words do not match theirs ? This is a problem which we 
may well doubt whether we have the means of solving. 
How far that common nature of man, which is shared by 
every one of us, extends ; and whether there is not in each 
an individuality, not resulting merely from incomplete 
development, but reaching to the very core, and differenc- 
ing one perfectly developed character from another; are 
questions to which we shall perhaps never find a satisfac- 
tory answer. 

But, that there is a deep and subtle affinity between that 
which is greatest in the greatest of men and that which is 
most universal in the mass, may be gathered from observ- 
ing the remarkable power which the former exercises, 
through an uncomprehended sympathy, over the latter. 
The rarest productions of genius, and the most exceptional 
displays of intellectual and moral force in the ways of 
thought or action, do not appear alien to the generality of 
mankind, like the productions of superior and strange 
beings, but, on the contrary, are precisely those acts or 
words which most directly come home to them. It seems 
probable that the faculty to appreciate is in some sense the 
mere rudimentary or imperfectly developed faculty to pro- 
duce the like : that is to say, the difference between the 
power to appreciate and the power to reproduce is one that 
appears to result rather from physical causes, — amongst 
which are to be classed differences in the structure of brain 



232 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

and nerve, — than from causes purely spiritual or intelli- 
gential. If this be so, the boasted superiority of men of 
genius over the multitude is a much more superficial thing 
than is frequently supposed. A man of exceptional en- 
dowments may in this sense be fitly styled a " representa- 
tive man/' inasmuch as he exhibits in speech or action that 
which many thousand obscurer persons might, with the 
same external advantages, have equalled or surpassed, and 
which, in a clouded and half conscious manner, lies dor- 
mant within them, — in some other sphere, perhaps, to be 
called into activity. 

Let us see, then, how the case stands with these " repre- 
sentative men/' Have they, within the limits of a life- 
time, with all the advantages which distinguish them 
from their fellows, room and scope to develop all that is 
in them ? 

We find, on the contrary, that, in order to attain real 
excellence in any one kind of work, — whether as an artist 
of this or that class, or as a student of any one branch of 
knowledge, — there is needed a certain pruning away of 
many portions of the man's capabilities. There must be a 
concentration of the faculties upon the one favourite object, 
which draws away the strength of them from every other, 
and so engenders a certain onesidedness, resulting from the 
sacrifice of breadth to intensity. Pre-eminence even in the 
concerns of active business cannot be attained without a 
large measure of that eager idealizing temper of the mind 
which is imperfectly designated by the term ambition, — 
being a desire, not necessarily of surpassing others, but 
rather of working up to a certain standard erected in the 
imagination : and this desire, under the influence of which 
the everyday routine of common life is converted into the 
working out of an ideal analogous to that of the artist, 
carries with it a similar narrowing of the faculties through 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 233 

concentration upon a single object. If we set ourselves 
deliberately to resist this engrossing tendency of energetic 
life, by spreading our interests more widely, we soon find 
that, provided we do this more than in a perfunctory man- 
ner by way of pastime or relaxation, we must pay the 
penalty, by sinking towards mediocrity in our especial 
branch of work. Thus the mind, capable of many things, 
must in one lifetime content itself with doing one thing 
well ; all its other aptitudes remaining during that period 
almost if not absolutely dormant. 

But " ars longa, vita brevis," goes much further than 
this. These words cannot fail to remind us, how few there 
are to whom have been given the leisure and length of 
days requisite for doing their one work well. We have to 
deduct the years spent in finding out one's special capa- 
bility, which may involve many experiments costly of life ; 
the years occupied with mere training ; the time lost in 
" bread-studies ; " and, when it is a question of the choicer 
products of the brain, the long intervals during which the 
invention, we know not why, seems to be stagnant. At 
the latter end, must be deducted the years after that 
period at which the vigour and elasticity of the imagi- 
nation has begun to fall. The working season is thus 
but a short one, even in the longest life. And hence it 
comes to pass that, with the rarest exceptions, the works 
of men of genius seem to carry about them a certain 
fragmentary character, almost melancholy ; breaking off, 
or falling into decay, before they have reached that strong 
maturity of which they appeared to give promise, and 
leaving on our minds no conviction more distinctly marked 
than this ; that the men were greater than their works, 
— that it was in them to become and to do more than 
they in fact were or did. 

Authors, artists, statesmen, and public men, are those 



234 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

concerning whom such observations as the present are most 
frequently made. This, however, is probably only because 
the works and the lives of such persons are most before the 
public, and can with most ease be thus criticized. But no 
doubt the same thing holds good with the lives of many 
private persons. Every one's experience may safely be 
appealed to, for examples of the fragmentary and imperfect 
character of most men's lives, when the attempt is made to 
consider that life as a whole, complete without a reference 
to anything beyond. The training or development which 
the human soul can obtain within this short season, when 
compared with its capabilities, amounts apparently to no 
more than that of an infant school : after a very moderate 
proficiency has been attained, the pupil is dismissed. 

Does this inadequacy of a life time to the proportions of 
the human soul amount to a proof, or even to a very high 
probability, apart from revelation, that there is to be a pro- 
longed existence of the soul after death ? It seems hardly 
possible, with any confidence, to answer this question in 
the affirmative. This inadequacy may, however, justify a 
surmise — a hope at least — sufficient to prepare our minds 
with the more confidence to receive such an assurance, if it 
should be offered to us. 

Let us in the next place proceed to examine somewhat 
more closely the process by which that essence which we 
call the self or soul enters by degrees into self-conscious- 
ness, — that process which we denote by the term self- 
development. And at the outset it may be convenient to 
direct our attention to a very fascinating theory, which 
would exhibit this work of self-development as the main, 
and in some sense the single, purpose of human life. 

That there is some one principal purpose, which may be 
styled the final cause of human life, — the object, that is, 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 235 

with, which, the soul of man is subjected to the discipline of 
its life on earth, — appears by no means improbable, from 
an analogy which, may be drawn from the harmony of crea- 
tion in all other respects. We find, in all the arrange- 
ments of what may be termed the lower functions of the 
universe, a symmetrical order, such, as indicates unity of 
design pervading the whole. We find, or think we find, 
in some directions, a subordination of all these physical 
arrangements to the well-being of man ; and, in others, a 
subordination of man's merely physical, to his mental and 
spiritual, well-being. This harmony, and these subordina- 
tions, grow more conspicuous, the more deeply and sys- 
tematically we explore the universe through the aid of 
physical science. It surely is not to be supposed that, 
whilst all the lower agencies of nature are moving along a 
preordained path, each fulfilling its appropriate office as a 
portion of one self-consistent whole, man alone, the highest, 
is drifting to and fro, aimless and unprogressive. There 
must be some single purpose which is being fulfilled 
amongst the seeming mutability and capriciousness of 
human life. 

This single purpose may be, perhaps the progress of the 
species, perhaps the development of the individual. That 
it is the former, is a theory not long ago in vogue, but now 
discredited, and very naturally. Scarcely anything can be 
more unsatisfactory than those theories concerning the pro- 
gress of the species. The only tangible superiority of a 
generation over that which has preceded it, appears to con- 
sist in its having within its reach a larger accumulation of 
scientific or literary materials for thought, or a greater 
mastery over the forces of inanimate nature ; advantages 
not without their drawbacks, and at any rate of a somewhat, 
superficial kind. Genius is not progressive from age to 
age ; nor yet the practice, however it may be with the 



236 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

science, of moral excellence. It is unnecessary, however, 
to lose time in attempting to measure how much the species 
is progressive ; it suffices to say that the progress of the 
species is, and always must be, a matter of small interest 
to the individual. There is no such merging of the in- 
dividual in the species as would be requisite for our finding 
any solid consolation amidst our present troubles from the 
reflection that in a thousand years the race of man will 
have worked itself clear of such things. And, as this pro- 
gress of the species is only supposed, after all, to be an im- 
provement of its condition during men's first lifetime, the 
belief — call it, if you will, but a dream — of a prolonged exist- 
ence after death, reduces the whole "progress" to insigni- 
ficance. There is more, even as regards quantity of sensa- 
tion, in the spiritual well-being of one single soul, with an 
existence thus continuous, than in the increased physical 
or intellectual prosperity, during one lifetime, of the entire 
human race. 

Dismissing, then, this notion of a progress of the species, 
which in the last generation stirred up so much of amiable 
if not very vigorous enthusiasm, let us turn our attention 
to the other possible main purpose of human life, viz., self- 
development in the individual. 

There is one thing to be said in favour of the opinion 
that this must be the predominant purpose for which we 
live, namely, that this is a thing which is going on every- 
where and always. The gradual transition of the inner 
self from unconscious to conscious vitality ; the wakening 
from a state of torpor ; the becoming in act and energy 
that which we are potentially ; the unfolding of our powers 
in increasing fulness; is a process which is perpetually 
goin^ forward, more or less, with every human being. 
Every variety of schooling which men receive whilst living 
on earth appears to promote some portion of this great 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 237 

work. Yiewed under this aspect, human life appears to 
lose its desultory and purposeless appearance. If it is like 
a school, in which, term after term, the same course of 
lessons, with fresh pupils, seems to be begun and carried on 
and returned to, in wearisome iteration ; if schoolmaster 
follows schoolmaster, no matter whether the more learned 
and skilful after the less learned, or vice versa, so that in 
the quality of the instruction given there is no real pro- 
gress ; at any rate it is like a school in this, that every 
single pupil goes away from it knowing something more 
than he knew when he first came there. 

Even in this theory, however, there is something incom- 
plete, as we discover so soon as we try to turn it to practical 
account. For, if accepted without modification, it inevitably 
leads us to a philosophical Antinomianism, which presently 
betrays its unsoundness by contradicting some of our most 
unequivocal primary beliefs. 

When this theory of human life is taken up heartily, 
good and evil, right and wrong, appear to lose their sharp 
distinction, and may not unnaturally come to be considered 
as hardly differing otherwise than as degrees of more or 
less. If my self — that which I potentially am — is to come 
forth into the light of day, to be torpid and inanimate no 
longer, but to live ; if this be indeed the great purpose for 
which I am placed upon the earth ; then, I may fairly say, 
let the whole self come forth, the evil that is in me — for it 
is part of me — together with the good. Thus only can 
there be that entire and frank unveiling of the inner 
essence which is demanded. Let the evil burn itself out 
in the open air, if it be a transient and superficial thing ; 
if it be a permanent part of my self, rooted there, let it 
expand and find room. No otherwise can I learn my 
whole lesson, or do the whole work assigned to me. The 
only difficulty is, on this theory, to understand what is 



238 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

meant by calling a thing evil. It exists ; it was therefore 
intended to exist. But, if intended to exist, and if that 
which exists potentially is to be unfolded into life, this like- 
wise, it must have been intended, is to come to its natural 
fulness of growth. 

Here, however, we find ourselves in a state of paradox : 
our results are at distinct variance with the common sense 
of mankind, and therefore probably — on the principles 
already established — will be found to contradict our own 
primary beliefs. 

Let us proceed to consider, then, whether that which is 
erroneous in this Antinomian theory cannot be corrected 
by a closer inspection of the process which we term self- 
development. 

There appears to be in the human mind a species of in- 
ternal appetite, which impels the undeveloped portion of 
the self to work its way towards conscious vitality. . The 
presence of this appetite may be detected from a certain 
uneasiness which we feel when our capabilities have not 
full play ; an uneasiness which sometimes exhibits itself 
under the familiar form of ennui, sometimes finds relief in 
the adoption of those works of supererogation called hob- 
bies. Our superabundant energy will run itself off perhaps 
in turning at a lathe, or learning to play the flute, or 
writing a book, or breeding prize pigs. We are not to 
despise this subject of hobbies, for it is a very instructive 
one. Ilobbies do not appear to be chosen at random ; but, 
whatever part of a man's nature is not adequately developed 
by his necessary work, is that portion which breaks out 
into a hobby. If, however, we must turn to something 
more dignified, the biographies of men of genius inform us 
that any extraordinary mental endowment carries with it 
a craving for utterance, delightful in the highest degree 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 239 

when it immediately precedes or accompanies the act of 
utterance, but no less painful and oppressive if utterance 
be denied it. A curious illustration of this fact may be 
found in the biography of Oliver Cromwell, where we read 
of his early life as a farmer in Huntingdonshire. And that 
which takes place, with extreme force, in men of genius, 
seems to hold good, in its degree, with every man. There 
is within each of us a spring of internal activity which 
requires a vent. 

This inward energy is the vis motrix of self-development : 
the vis directrix, that which gives a definite guidance to 
the energy, and keeps it constant in one track, is the ideal 
tendency. 

If we pass over, as unimportant for the present purpose, 
those acts of the mind in which it merely repeats what it 
has done before, and confine ourselves to such as may be 
termed acts of origination, that is to say, such as are of a 
new kind, developing some faculty or energy which has 
heretofore been dormant : and amongst these, again, con- 
fine our notice to such as are voluntary ; we shall find that 
every one of such acts consists, and necessarily must con- 
sist, in the imitation of a model, present to the mind before 
it begins to act. This must be so, because the act in ques- 
tion must be preceded by a volition, which again must 
follow or carry along with it some notion or conception of 
the thing which is to be done. Such a conception may 
arise from the having seen or heard of a similar act per- 
formed by some one else, or from combining acts, or select- 
ing portions of acts, formerly done by the man himself, or 
simply from some depth within his own nature, revealing 
to himself a possibility never before realized in action. 
But, from whatever source derived, the conception must be 
presented somehow to the mind before the mind can will 
to perform that particular action. The action thus willed 



240 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

must consist of an endeavour to realize or imitate in out- 
ward act this conception, which is thus taken as a model. 
The models so received within the imagination may be 
termed ideals. Every voluntary act of origination con- 
sists, then, in the endeavour imitatively to reproduce an 
ideal. 

The model of a voluntary act must contain everything 
which is in the act itself, so far as the latter is voluntary. 
Otherwise, there would be some voluntary portion of an 
act, — i.e. some voluntary act, — which would have been per- 
formed without a model. 

Every model or ideal is, with reference to the proposed 
imitation of it in the act, perfect. For, the perfection of 
the imitation of a model consists in producing an exact 
counterpart of it; which perfection the original already 
possesses. 

We find that the mind is capable of voluntary acts of 
origination, — that it can and does use its power of volition, 
not merely in repeating such acts as it has first been im- 
pelled by necessity or chance to perform unpremcditatedly, 
but also in shaping a new course by the imitation of models 
formed in the imagination. 

We have, in the next place, to consider what significance 
may lie in the fact that such or such particular ideals exer- 
cise a power over our minds. 

It appears to be the fact that certain ideal models in- 
fluence men's volitions, and so their conduct, by laying 
hold of their affections through the imagination. If, cither 
by retrospect of what has passed within ourselves, or by 
observation of others, we endeavour to ascertain the man- 
ner in which this takes place, we seem led to the following 
conclusions: — In the first place, there appears to be what 
looks lik<« caprice or waywardness in the mind with regard 
to its adoption of ideals. Amongst the objects which lie 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 241 

in its way, and as it were press for its notice, it fastens 
upon some, and disregards others, according to a law — if 
we must suppose some law — which, is uncomprehended by 
the mind itself, and is not less undecipherable to a by- 
stander. Not the most admirable or excellent in them- 
selves, not those most recommended by utility, always, are 
taken ; but simply those models which somehow happen to 
be most congenial to the particular character of the man. 
If the same objects be presented to two minds, one will 
fasten upon one portion, and one upon another. The 
law, therefore, if law there be, is one that involves some 
idiosyncrasy in the mind itself. Secondly, a fact is to be 
noted which in appearance would seem scarcely consistent 
with this capriciousness in the adoption of models ; namely 
that, in the ideals which are gathered together by any one 
mind, we discover, after taking a sufficient number of them 
to determine the character of the series, that there is among 
them a certain harmony and reciprocal appropriateness, 
such as proves that they have not been accumulated at 
random. And, what bears still more directly upon the 
conclusion to which we are tending, observation seems to 
establish that, as there is thus an individual congruity 
amongst the ideals which find reception in each single 
mind, so there is a congruity, of a much broader and more 
catholic character, amongst the ideals of the human race. 
That is to say, if we were to place on one side all the 
ideals, with the means and helps for carrying them out 
in action, which have at any time gained admittance in the 
minds of men, ranging them in order of importance accord- 
ing to the frequency and potency of their influence over the 
mind, and on the other side all the obstructions and hind- 
rances and things contrary to such ideals, the result would 
be, that we should have the materials for a system of ethics, 
which would be self-consistent, and would correspond in 

16 



242 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

its details with the most approved conclusions of ethical 
science. 1 

The idealizing tendency is a continual process of selec- 
tion, and hence of judgment concerning good and evil. 
Amongst the multitude of human actions which pass under 
our notice, some, singled from the rest, attract us strongly ; 
the others, therefore, stand for us upon a lower level. All 
that serves us towards the imitation of the former, appears 
to us desirable or good ; all that thwarts it, evil. 

One other circumstance is to be noted concerning the 
development of ideals within the human mind, namely, 
that there appears to be a certain progressiveness about it. 
In proportion as we strive to realize, and do realize, in 
actual life, the ideals which present themselves to our 
imagination, fresh and still loftier ideals successively come 
before it, urging the mind onward from height to height 
of moral excellence. We have not from the outset a clear 
and completely formed ideal of perfectness, which is one 
and the same from first to last. Our ideal moves before us 
like the cloud-pillar through the desert, advancing as we 
ourselves advance towards it. We are drawn to something 
which seems not immeasurably distant from us : we seem 
to reach the spot where it stood ; yet we see it in advance 
of us still. Not only so ; but our ideal appears likewise 
capable of contracting itself, and becoming smaller and 
poorer, in proportion as we ourselves, instead of striving 
after it, remain inactive or turn away, inattentive to that 
impulse from within which would urge us forward. 

At this point an objection meets us, which must be con- 
sidered before we go further. What if all tliis fancied 

1 It may if objected, perhaps, tli;ii there is n class of minds to whom Turpin 
or .jack Bheppard stand r<»r ideals. The answ< r is, ii is not the rillanj of these 
heroes, btrt some good or at any rate powerftil quality mixed with it, which 
recommends them. There is an ideal of power, whieh is in itseif not only 
innocent but extreme^ raluabie, though it is often found in bad company. 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 243 

striving after an ideal be in reality nothing more than the 
operation of the principle of utility ? Whilst we are sup- 
posing ourselves, in thus pursuing an ideal, to be following 
some mysterious impulse from the penetralia of our nature, 
may it not be that we are merely aiming at a course of 
action which shall be useful, i.e. which shall produce sub- 
stantial advantages to ourselves, or to the community of 
which we form a part ? 

Great plausibility is gained for the Utilitarian theory, 
from the fact that, owing to the harmony of created things, 
that course of action which is best and highest, is also, in 
its results, whether immediate or remote, the most conducive 
to solid and tangible advantages for the human family. 
"What the Utilitarian theory requires, however, and what 
is by no means so certain, is, that such a course of action 
should be pursued by us only for the reason that it is con- 
ducive to such advantages. 

If I desire a thing which is useful, but which I do not 
know to be useful, it is clear that I do not desire it because 
it is useful. If my desire for it is stronger than my desire 
for those useful things which it will procure, it is clear that 
the excess of the former desire must be due to some other 
motive than the utility. Now some ideals kindle in the 
mind an ardour of enthusiasm, an affection and longing, 
such as is not aroused by either the contemplation or the 
possession of those useful things which are the fruits of its 
attainment. This enthusiasm is usually strongest in our 
youth, — that is to say, at the time of life when we are least 
able to know that the thing desired is conducive to utility. 
Young or old, however, our desire for the permanent well- 
being of the human race is for the most part a very tran- 
quil sentiment, by no means apt to run into enthusiasm. 
If, then, we were to hold that utility is the concealed 
mainspring of this supposed ideal tendency, we must be 



244 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

of the opinion that the means towards an end move our 
desires much more strongly than the end itself, and most 
strongly when we least know that they are means adequate 
and fit to bring about the end ; and this, although the only 
reason why those means move our desires at all, is, that we 
believe them to be conducive to the end : an opinion which 
certainly appears somewhat paradoxical. 

Thus, without denying that utility may be a very valu- 
able test of good or evil, on account of its being something 
solid and mensurable, we seem precluded from carrying the 
Utilitarian theory to the length of saying that usefulness 
explains and accounts for this tendency in the human mind 
to aspire after ideals. This latter appears to be an inde- 
pendent motive power, although in its results it may 
altogether correspond with the deliberate and calculated 
aiming after the general utility. 

This view of the idealizing tendency in human nature 
furnishes us with the means of correcting what is erroneous 
in the Antinomian theory above propounded, without part- 
ing with that which is really valuable in it, namely, its 
presenting to us one single, constant, universal movement 
as the predominant purpose in human life. Instead of 
simply saying that that purpose is self- development, let us 
substitute, self-development in conformity with our ideals. 
Room is then made for good and evil, for right and wrong ; 
and thus we are enabled to recognize that mysterious 
dualism, the origin of which may be unaccountable, the 
reconciling of which with the omnipotence and perfect 
goodness of the Creator may perhaps be a problem beyond 
the reach of human reason, but the existence of which it 
would be an absurdity to deny. 

Here, then, is one theory of human life, — that its pre- 
dominant purpose is the development of the individual 
nature in the direction of its ideals. This theory consists 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 245 

of two parts, which, rest on different degrees and even 
kinds of proof, the one from the other. That this is the 
leading purpose of human life, is a pure hypothesis, based 
on an analogy which is certainly imperfect. It is open to 
any one, who prefers it, absolutely to reject this hypothesis, 
and to believe, either that there is no single purpose or 
final cause of man's existence upon earth, or that to deter- 
mine whether there be any, or one, or many, such a purpose, 
lies wholly beyond the grasp of human reason. Such a 
speculator would no doubt readily admit that the hunting 
for some such purpose has in most ages, indeed whenever 
curiosity has at all been directed towards these subjects, 
been a favourite occupation for men's mind ; but he would 
add, It has been, however, but a sort of busy idleness, 
always unfruitful hitherto, and I for one prefer more de- 
finite objects of speculation. One could not say that such 
an answer would be irrational, or even un philosophical. 
The case would be very different were any one to deny the 
truth of that which constitutes the second portion of this 
theory* That there is within the human mind a faculty 
or propensity, in virtue of which it projects before it, so to 
speak, models or ideals, extending in various directions 
towards an excellence, whether of beauty, or power, or 
goodness, always in advance of that which the mind itself 
has realized in act or sensible apprehension; is a matter 
of fact which can in case of need be clearly proved by a 
large accumulation of particular instances. It is equally 
a matter of fact, proveable in the same way, that this 
tendency has been powerfully and broadly operative in 
influencing the upward movement of individual characters, 
and by this means indirectly of promoting the advance of 
civilization. The significance of this fact is undoubtedly 
very great. We can be content to waive the question 
whether it deserves to be ranked as the one principal 



246 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

movement in human life, and in this sense fitly to be 
termed the main purpose of it. For our practical guidance 
it is enough to say, that it is a thing of the utmost im- 
portance to each of us. 

Thus much concerning ideals : let us now turn to the 
next branch of the argument. 

The desire which men feel to realize their ideals must 
not be confounded with another instinctive feeling, which 
impels them in the same direction, — viz., a sense of duty, 
or moral obligation. 

That I wish and long to do or to become such or such, is 
a fact of an entirely different kind from my feeling that I 
ought to do or become such. No intensity of desire can 
lead to the feeling of obligation. Utilitarianism cannot 
explain or account for the sense of duty. 

This sense exists, however. Reflection on what passes 
within ourselves must satisfy each of us of the presence in 
him of such a feeling. Let us ask ourselves the question 
whether it be not so, without in the first instance theorizing 
as to what may be its origin. We shall certainly find that 
we cannot sufficiently explain our feelings concerning right 
and wrong by saying that we have satisfied our judgments 
that it is more profitable on the whole to ourselves that we 
should adopt a virtuous and shun a vicious course of be- 
haviour. In all matters into which right and wrong do 
not enter, we may often recognize a possibility of choosing 
either the more profitable or the less profitable of two 
Courses ; and in these matters our judgments concerning 
those who elect the latter are different in kind from our 
judgments concerning those who wilfully embark in a 
course of moral criminality. Yicc may be folly, but is not 
merely folly; it carries with it a kind of moral condem- 
nation peculiar to itself. We feel that we arc at liberty 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 247 

to do that which, is unprofitable, or imprudent, in some 
sense in which we are not at liberty, though we no doubt 
have the power, to do that which is wrong. 

That this sense of obligation has at all times been widely 
diffused through the human race, might be proved, if 
necessary, in a variety of ways; but perhaps the most 
striking and indisputable proof of it may be drawn from 
the existence, in language, of a class of words which are 
unmeaning except as expressive of it. Mr. Bentham may 
say that the word "ought" should be banished from speech; 
but he has not succeeded in discovering any language, of 
men who have in any degree emerged from barbarism, 
which is without an equivalent for it. 

Perhaps it may be thought, however, that this singular 
feeling is artificial, the result of education. It has been 
found a convenient engine for governing men, it may be 
said, to impress them with a certain mysterious feeling of 
obligation or duty : this has gone on for many generations : 
its usefulness has occasioned it to be borrowed from one 
code or system of government for another: its diffusion 
has given strength to it ; and so the race of man has be- 
come trained to it, as certain dogs are to pointing. 

To this it must be answered : what has been learnt can 
be unlearnt. If this be an artificial and external thing, it 
is in the power of each of us, though not perhaps without 
considerable effort, to emancipate ourselves from it. This 
is found to be the case with every system of philosophy, 
every creed, every dogma or body of dogmas, however long 
established and deeply rooted, so far as it has not been 
based upon the primary instincts of human nature. There 
have always been a few minds, adventurous and sceptical, 
which have been able to shake loose from themselves 
all the teaching which has been in this sense adven- 
titious. The sense of duty, however, appears to be one 



248 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

of those tilings which, cling to the mind, and cannot 
for any length of time be shaken off. This is a truth 
which has been denied in words by many who in their 
hearts and lives have, perhaps unconsciously, confessed 
to it. 

It has sometimes been argued that this sense of duty 
cannot be innate in men, because men have differed, even 
radically and on points the most fundamental, as to what 
particular things are right and wrong. But the sense of 
duty is one thing ; the knowledge of particular duties 
another. It may be that the latter is, to a considerable 
extent, or even entirely, a thing to be acquired through 
external teaching. I may wish to do right, nay, I may 
feel myself morally obliged to do right; yet, I may not 
know, without instruction, whether it is right or wrong to 
fight a duel or to marry my wife's sister. And, if this 
be so where the particular duty is confessedly somewhat 
doubtful, it may be so where the duty seems plainer. It 
is difficult for us to place ourselves in the frame of mind 
of those who can feel doubtful whether it is right or wrong 
to steal, or to commit murder or adultery : yet it is per- 
fectly conceivable that in certain stages of civilization, as 
with savages, these matters may require teaching, no less 
than the more questionable duties amongst ourselves re- 
quire it. It is clear, at any rate, that particular duties 
can be taught ; but it is by no means easy to see how a 
sense of duty could be given from without by any kind of 
teaching, though this may be adequate to awaken it, sup- 
posing it to be in some obscure and half-conscious manner 
already present to the mind. The knowledge of particular 
duties, then, stands on an entirely different footing from 
the sense of duly in the abstract. The one belongs to the 
intellectual, the other to the moral, portion of our nature. 
This seems so clear, that it is unnecessary to enter upon 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 249 

the question, whether the differences amongst mankind, as 
to what particular actions are right and wrong, are nearly 
so extensive as, in order to support a theory, they have 
been represented. 

Perhaps the term " sense of duty" does but inadequately 
express that apparently instinctive feeling within our 
natures to which we owe the use of the expression "I 
ought." In all human relations, the term duty implies 
obligation to a person. But, if the feeling of moral ob- 
ligation is attached to the mind as closely and as universally 
as the consciousness of moral liberty, it must be possessed 
by atheists as well as theists : it must in truth be inde- 
pendent of any opinions we may have formed as to the 
existence of a moral Governor of the universe. We seem 
able to reason ourselves, no matter how perversely, into a 
belief that no such Governor exists. We are not, however, 
even when we have done this, able to emancipate ourselves 
from the sense of a certain moral obligation; we cannot, 
that is, heartily and permanently believe that there is no 
such thing as right and wrong. This latter appears to be 
an instinct, while the former is a conclusion of the intellect. 

Can we, perhaps, get rid of this difficulty by holding 
that the existence of this sense of duty, thus emplanted in 
our natures, is a species of internal witness within ourselves 
to the existence of a Being, towards whom we are under 
this obligation, that is to say, between whom and ourselves 
there exist moral relations ? If this be so, then we may 
say that from natural religion alone, and this not merely 
through inferences derived from the adaptations of external 
nature, but by reasoning from our own moral structure, we 
are taught the existence of God. We are taught it, not 
indeed by a direct internal revelation, but indirectly, as 
the result of a process of reasoning, — but of reasoning 
perfectly legitimate. 



250 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

This explanation may or may not be satisfactory, It 
may be met by the objection that this obscure sense of a 
duty to do right is too little understood by us to be thus 
reasoned from. We give to what we feel the name of a 
sense of duty, and in so doing we declare our opinion that 
it is in some way analogous to the sense of duty which, we 
feel towards some human beings other than ourselves. But 
the analogy is imperfect. Duties towards our fellow-men 
are certainly derived from, and correlative with, moral re- 
lations which subsist between us and them. We can 
hardly from this fact infer with confidence that the same 
thing holds good with that different, though, analogous, 
feeling to which we give the name of moral obligation. 
For aught we can tell, there may bave been emplanted in 
our natures a certain mysterious subjugation to a moral 
law, although the lawgiver should stand aloof, and keep 
silence, as it were, leaving us to work out our lives after 
our own fashion, unpunished, unrewarded, and unnoticed. 

It is safer, therefore, to leave these high matters for the 
present unexplored, and to remain in the lower and securer 
region where our conclusions can be verified by observation. 
Without speculating, then, as to the nature and import of 
this undefinable feeling to which has been given the name 
of a sense of moral obligation, let each of us consider for 
himself whether or no such a sense or feeling really exists. 
This is* matter of observation and experiment. Those who, 
in the search for truth, have sounded the depths of unbe- 
lief, can tell us from their own experience, whether, in the 
darkest night, in the most absolute eclipse of faith, when 
all revelations have seemed to them like old wives' tales, 
when they have contemplated tho enigma of a godless 
universe, they have been able ever, for any length of time, 
and with any inward reality or conviction, to divest their 
minds of the persuasion that to do right according to their 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 251 

power was an obligation laid upon their souls, which, they 
could not without a strong inward anguish deliberately 
tear themselves loose from. If such men can honestly 
answer this question in the affirmative, then what is here 
written, and what is to follow, must appear to them ab- 
solutely baseless. I believe, however, that men who would 
make this answer are not to be found. 

By the conjoint operation of these two innate principles 
of our nature, the idealizing faculty and the sense of moral 
obligation, there are gradually developed within us various 
feelings, which, quite independently of any opinions of the 
intellect concerning a system of external rewards and 
punishments, naturally culminate in that which in the 
language of theology is termed a conviction of sin. We 
are attracted towards a moral perfection which opens be- 
fore us, with increasing splendour and fulness, in proportion 
as we advance towards it. We feel, by a strong internal 
instinct, that we are under an obligation to reach, or at any 
rate to strive towards, this perfectness. In proportion as the 
vision itself grows brighter, our own past doings and being 
are more and more felt to be miserably at variance with 
what they ought to be. This variance, when our attention 
is steadily fixed upon it, is found by experience to produce 
feelings of disgust, shame, and self-reproach, which settle 
upon the mind as an intolerable burthen. It is perhaps 
not altogether easy to comprehend why it should be so ; 
but the fact is unquestionable, that so it is. This appears 
to be a phenomenon by no means confined to persons who 
have been brought up in the Christian religion. Its ex- 
istence, amongst Pagans, and before the introduction of 
Christianity, is sufficiently attested; as, for example, in 
the singular expiations devised amongst the ancient Ro- 
mans, particularly towards the time of the downfall of the 



252 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

Republic. It is, as might have been anticipated, a phe- 
nomenon which is most conspicuous in what have been 
styled subjective seasons of civilization; in periods when 
men have been less than usually absorbed in the struggles 
for bare subsistence, or by the excitements of political life, 
and so have been at leisure to turn their thoughts inwards 
upon themselves. The tendency of advancing civilization 
is to make such periods more frequent and more continuous, 
and in this manner to render their especial phenomena 
relatively more important. It seems pretty certain, how- 
ever, that the feelings here referred to have existed, with 
considerable force, in every age. Men have felt themselves 
to be intensely wretched, because they have felt themselves 
to be sinful. 

That which greatly intensifies this feeling, is a craving 
which, at a certain stage of spiritual development, besets 
the mind of every man, — a craving for an internal support 
and sympathy through communion with the Invisible. 
This is a difficult subject, but it seems impossible wholly 
to pass it over. The solitude in which so large a portion 
of our inner life appears to be passed, and that the portion 
which is most valuable to us, and in which we seem to be 
most truly ourselves, comes at times to be felt as irksome, 
and even as terrible. Men who think or who feel deeply, 
and who often revolve and brood over their thoughts or 
feelings, are those to whom this inner solitude is the most 
oppressive, simply because for such persons this portion of 
their lives is the most considerable. That which is super- 
ficial in us has many companions ; were it not so, it would 
fare ill with the bulk of mankind; but every one alike is 
conscious that his deeper and more earnest feelings can 
communicate themselves to few. There is perhaps no one 
so shallow and so sociable as not to have some places in his 
mind to which lie has felt it impossible to admit any in- 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 253 

truder. And certainly there are many minds, graver per- 
haps or more reserved, who habitually feel that such places 
are precisely those in which the strength and fullness of 
their own personal character are most distinctly- present. 
This lonely part of a man's nature is likely therefore to 
assume larger dimensions, in proportion to his own ad- 
vancement in moral and intellectual dignity. But, in 
those regions of his nature to which human companionship 
is inadmissible, there is felt to be a void, painful and op- 
pressive, unless it can in some way be filled by a presence 
and a sympathy which are not human. Not enthusiasm, 
not spiritual weakness, but an instinct which attests the 
dignity of man's nature, and its affinity to a higher nature, 
bids us, in our inward solitude, aspire to a mystical com- 
munion with a Being, that shall comprehend our innermost 
and most secret moods and thoughts, and sympathize with 
them, so to speak, in such a manner as that we shall be 
conscious of that sympathy. 

Thus far I have spoken of the mind only as it is in a 
state of calm. When it is violently shaken by some great 
sorrow, by bereavement, or desertion, or the unworthiness 
of a friend, then an internal solitude is more than ever in- 
tolerable. At such seasons, at once to appreciate the in- 
adequacy of human sympathy, and to have no other, is 
certainly a hard lot. 

This inward communing with the Unseen is, however, 
only possible for the soul whilst it is striving upwards 
towards a better life. When its ideal only presents itself 
under the aspect of a reproach; when the recollection of 
what it has been and is, is humiliating, from contrast with 
that which the soul feels to be its duty; the soul grows 
unsociable, so to speak, and would gladly shroud itself 
even from its own introspection. 

At any rate, whatever we may think as to these matters, 



254 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

the fact appears pretty certain, that there is a stage in the 
development of the spiritual character, at which there is 
felt an urgent necessity to separate oneself wholly from 
one's own past life, and to make a fresh beginning. This 
does not mean, to commence a new and different course of 
external behaviour, but in some way to break loose from 
our own past selves, and to be able to regard that which 
we have done and been up to this moment as something 
wholly alien from our present nature. Nothing less than 
that which Christian theology designates by the term, a 
new birth, will satisfy this need. 

This craving for purity, or, to speak more accurately, 
this sense of an incapacity for making spiritual progress 
beyond a certain point until we shall have been emanci- 
pated from the tyranny which our own past life exercises 
over us, seems to be one of those propensities or instincts 
of our nature which are wholly unaccountable. That it 
exists, is a truth which each man has to discover within 
himself. "When he has once strongly felt it, he cannot 
doubt its reality ; and perhaps till then it would be im- 
possible to convince him of it. One who is in his own 
person a stranger to it may very fairly wonder why men 
should not be content with a gradual progress through 
imperfection towards a higher life. It ought rather to be 
a source of satisfaction to us, he might reason, to contrasl 
our deeds and capabilities of to-day with the much poorer 
doings and feebler capabilities of our earlier years. It is 
so with intellectual progress; we never wish to disown our 
former ignorance, or the mistakes we made in consequence 
of it; why should it be otherwise with moral or spiritual 
progress? Lei the growth of the human soul be compared 
with thai of some tall plant, which at first puts forth coarse 
unsightly Leaves, destined to bo draggled in the mire, but 
as it rises upward rises more delicately and gracefully, and 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 255 

before it perishes crowns the growth, with a flower. The 
beauty of the plant, as a whole, is scarcely marred by the 
blemishes which are near the ground. Such, indeed, 
whether we like it or no, is in fact the spectacle which 
the best life must present, when viewed from without, by 
a bystander. 

To this it must be answered, It is not here a question 
concerning the growth of a plant, but of a soul, which is a 
different sort of thing, proceeding after laws of its own, 
which laws are to be ascertained in no other way than that 
of observation and induction. These analogies between 
physical and mental things are exceedingly fallacious. I 
have no other way of learning in what fashion the soul 
of man expands or becomes developed, than by carefully 
watching the process within myself, and comparing what 
I myself experience with that which I can learn as to the 
experiences of other men. If I find within myself, rising 
up at some stage of this growth, a strong instinctive long- 
ing for purity, that is to say, not only for an abstinence 
from sinful acts and thoughts in the future, but for being 
in a manner washed and purged from that which is sinful 
in the past, so that it may in some sense belong to me no 
longer, but be blotted out and cancelled as though it had 
never been ; and if I find abundant proofs in the records 
of other men's lives, and in assurances direct and indirect 
furnished by those around me, that in this feeling there is 
nothing peculiar to myself, but that it is shared by num- 
bers, probably by all, who have reached a similar point of 
spiritual growth ; then it is altogether beside the purpose 
to tell me that this feeling is unaccountable. If this part 
of my nature is a mystery to me, it is not the only part of 
my nature which is so ; on the contrary, every one of my 
primary beliefs, intellectual as well as moral, is alike un- 
accountable and mysterious. Omnia scientia exit in mys- 



256 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

terium. I feel that the fact is so with me, a man will say ; 
and I have learnt that the fact is so with others, and, as 
far as my knowledge goes, with every one who is similarly 
circumstanced : and that is really all that ever can be 
known npon the subject. 

Mention has been made of two instinctive desires or 
needs of the moral nature ; the desire for an inward com- 
munion with an Unseen Being, and the desire for a 
restoration to inward purity by a cancellation of the past. 
These two are intimately connected together ; for it is felt 
that the stain of sinfulness is a barrier to this spiritual 
communion. The chief, possibly the only, reason why we 
are conscious of the latter of these needs is the existence 
of this connection with the former. 

At this point we have reached the final stage of the 
reasoning proposed at the outset. The existence of these 
spiritual needs of our nature leads us, whilst we are still 
outside of the pale of Christianity, feeling our way by the 
light of reason alone, to recognize, I will not say the ab- 
solute necessity, but the urgent need of some Revelation 
which shall give us a strong and clear assurance that these 
wants of our nature are not mere impotent longings, but 
are to be satisfied. If this be so, the philosophy of Primary 
Beliefs does not lead us to rest satisfied with those beliefs, 
as in themselves adequate to our requirements, but it is, as 
one should expect a true philosophy to be, simply the in- 
troduction to religion. 

Here, however, there naturally arises a question, which 
deserves careful consideration. Arc wc justified in main- 
taining that a Revelation, — that is, as commonly supposed, 
something supernatural, — is requisite, in order to satisfy us 
that the restoration to a state of inward purity, here spoken 
of, is attainable by man, and has been given to ourselves ? 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 257 

A man who is absolutely convinced of the truth of all 
that has been written up to this point, yet feels reluctant 
here to make the important step from natural to revealed 
religion, might perhaps argue in some such manner as the 
following : — 

Throughout this volume the principle has been syste- 
matically maintained, that the instinctive beliefs of our 
nature constitute so many indications of the objective 
existence or truth of the things believed. What is true 
of a belief must likewise be true of the instinctive feeling 
of a need; for, the ground of this theory is a supposed 
harmony or adaptation between the nature of the human 
soul and the external circumstances in which it is placed. 
The more distinctly it is proved, then, that the human 
soul craves and appears to need the supporting presence 
of an inward communion with its Maker, the more un- 
questionable it becomes, on this hypothesis, that such a 
communion will be granted to it : and, in like manner, 
the more clearly we recognize the need of this new birth, 
the more certain it is that we are intended to receive it. 
The inference from the need to the existence of the thing 
needed is an inference of precisely the same kind, and 
entitled to precisely the same deference, as the inference 
from the belief to the existence of the thing believed. It 
has never been pretended that some revelation is requisite, 
in order to our feeling solidly convinced as to the existence 
of an external world, or of a self, or of a causal force, or 
of space or time, — objects which, as has been shown, are 
certified to us solely by the uncomprehended presence of 
certain beliefs within our own mind. Why, then, should 
we draw a distinction between the primary data of the 
spiritual, and those of the intellectual, portions of our 
nature ? Why insist upon the need of a revelation for the 
one rather than for the other ? 

17 



258 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

There seems to be a considerable mixture of truth in 
this way of putting the case, and this mixture is what 
renders it somewhat difficult to answer. Reasoning in 
this manner does, on the principles enforced in this 
volume, go so far as to furnish a certain probability, ante- 
cedently to revelation, in favour of the existence of the 
things thus needed. This probability, indeed, constitutes 
one portion of that balance of probability which makes up 
the external evidence of the truth of the Christian religion. 

There are, however, many strong reasons for thinking 
that the probability — for it amounts to no more — thus 
evolved by pure reasoning is not by any means sufficient 
for the practical purpose of influencing the lives and con- 
duct of the great bulk of mankind. It tells in support of 
revelation, but does not dispense with it. 

In the first place, it is an argument which is not, and 
perhaps never can be made, popularly intelligible to the 
great mass of uneducated minds. Let the train of reason- 
ing on which it is based be never so impregnable, it is, 
to say the least, a long and complex train. Even to com- 
prehend it, requires a certain patience, on the part even of 
a practised intellect, such as it would be unreasonable to 
expect from more than a very few. What is wanted, 
however, is something which shall produce a distinct and 
strong impression on the minds and hearts of all men. 

But we may go further, and question whether, even to 
the few who are capable of apprehending this argument in 
its full force, and who have in fact done so, the argument 
is adequate to do more than to prepare their minds for the 
reception of a revelation. 

There is amongst our primary beliefs a vast difference, 
as has already been pointed out, in the distinctness and 
certainty with which we recognise the fact of their being 
truly primary. Some are evolved much earlier than others, 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 259 

-and at a more rudimentary stage in the development of 
our inner nature. Some, again, are reinforced continually 
bj their mutual conformity, and by our habit of acting 
upon them in, and testing them by, the concerns of every- 
day life. Those which are evolved in all, or almost all, 
.men, gain very great force by our intercourse with other 
men, whom we find to share them with ourselves. Those 
which are evolved only after a considerable degree of moral 
training, can gain but a smaller measure of this secondary 
support, in proportion as the number of minds, simi- 
tarly trained, with which our own comes in contact, is 
smaller; and even this is weakened, on account of the 
apparent, though illusory, contradiction to their univer- 
sality, which is brought to us through intercourse with 
the, perhaps far more numerous, minds in which the belief 
in question has not been developed. Thus, although in 
abstract philosophical truth there is no difference between 
our primary beliefs with respect to the deference we ought 
to pay them ; yet the practical force of this deference is 
very different, in proportion as there is a less irresistible 
accumulation of proof that the beliefs in question are truly 
primary. 

Now, of all these beliefs, those which have to do with 
the spiritual, as contrasted with the purely intelligential, 
portions of our nature, are the latest developed in order of 
time, and are developed in the smallest number of minds ; 
for the simple reason that the development of them, in 
such a manner as to make them available for the purpose 
of this argument, requires a twofold cultivation, that of 
the intellect and also of the moral or spiritual character. 
Further, these spiritual beliefs are not of such a kind as to 
be reinforced by analogies derived from external nature. 

If, for example, we have attained to the belief that, for 
the possibility of moral progress beyond a certain stage, 



260 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

there is needed a cancellation of a man's past life, such as 
is expressed by the term regeneration, we are so far from 
being supported in this belief by any analogies derived 
from external nature, that we are at once confronted by 
what seems a very formidable difficulty, namely, that 
everything in external nature appears to negative the 
possibility of such a thing. There is in nature, as opera- 
tive upon man, an unbroken stream of moral retribution, 
which follows out every act to its remotest consequences 
with unrelenting persistency. No evil deed of ours can, 
in its outward effects upon ourselves and upon others, be 
undone by penitence or remorse. Physical causes do not 
operate with more certainty and uniformity upon material 
objects, than do moral actions upon the minds and lives of 
those who have performed them. And in this unbroken 
law of moral retribution we recognise God's justice ; and 
to this justice there is something in our own minds which 
answers assentingly; we recognise that it is righteous; 
and, when we are impartial, that is to say when we are 
thinking of its operation upon other than ourselves, we 
strongly and sternly approve of it. Before we can believe, 
then, that, as between man and his Maker, there is a pos- 
sible regeneration for the soul, we must believe that the 
relation between man and his Maker is a relation not only 
wholly unlike, but in some important respects diametri- 
cally opposite to, every relation of which we have expe- 
rience in transactions between man and man. 

If exception be taken to this statement of the facts, as 
not strictly accurate, the only thing that can with any 
show of reason be alleged against it is, that wc do find in 
human life sonic imperfect resemblance to this cancellation 
of evil deeds, in the fact that men are able really to forgive 
offences committed against themselves, and even perhaps 
to feel towards the offender as if he never had committed 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 261 

them. What has been said in the preceding paragraph 
may properly be modified to this extent. Let us proceed 
to consider, then, how the argument now stands. 

What is the true relation between God and the soul of 
man, can only be perfectly known, it is obvious, by those 
who can know not only what is the nature of man, but 
also, so far as the two are brought into relation with one 
another, what is the nature of God. If the former is to a 
great extent a mystery to ourselves, the latter is certainly 
not less a mystery. Apart from revelation, the only means 
we have for partially approximating to such a knowledge 
are, an observation of the outward manifestations of God's 
nature given to us in His dealings with the human race in 
the world, and an introspection or some other mode of 
apprehending that which is best and highest, and so, we 
may fairly think, most Godlike, in the nature of man him- 
self. Let us concede that forgiveness of injuries is in this 
sense the most godlike attribute of man. Still, when it 
is considered that the man who forgives injuries is himself 
fallible, and conscious of a need of forgiveness ; and that 
the man who forgets injuries, and thus most nearly ap- 
proximates to that cancellation of the past which we are 
considering, very frequently does so, not so much out of 
magnanimity as out of indifference, coldness, or absorption 
in other objects of thought ; we shall see that this human 
cancellation of the past offers a very imperfect analogy to 
such a cancellation on the part of man's Creator. And, 
when we likewise bear in mind that this analogy appears 
to be distinctly contradicted by that other, and seemingly 
more direct, manifestation of God's mind which is given in 
the external world, it seems impossible that we should 
arrive at any very clear and positive assurance, apart from 
revelation, as to this divine forgiveness. 

We really need a very strong assurance on this head. 



262 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

Even between human beings, it is not easy for a friendship 
which has once been broken in upon by an injury to be so 
perfectly cemented by forgiveness, as to be again that 
which it was before ; and the difficulty is increased in 
proportion as the friendship has been intimate and tender. 
This difficulty of reunion is principally on the side of the 
offender, and seems to be insuperable, unless he can be 
very thoroughly convinced that the injury has so passed 
out of the mind of his friend as to be in a manner blotted 
out from it. Until the offender has been perfectly satisfied 
that this is so, there is on his part a certain timidity or 
sense of insecurity which prevents a perfect renewal of 
confidence. All this is applicable, but with greater inten- 
sity, to the relation between the soul of man, when con- 
scious of guilt, and his Maker ; this relation being the 
most tender and intimate, despite the awe which must 
accompany it, of all human relations. Then it is to be 
remembered that there is a disturbing influence in strong 
desire, which troubles the judgment ; so that the things 
we earnestly long for appear only the more incredible on 
that account. 

On the whole, then, it seems pretty clear that the strong 
assurance of forgiveness which we need cannot be attained 
by the bulk of mankind, probably can be attained by no 
man, unless there be given some revelation of God's will, 
such as shall confirm that doubtful anticipation of it to 
which we may be led by reasoning. 

A word or two must be added, with reference to what 
was said concerning a supposed harmony of the moral 
nature. It is by no means clear that there is the same 
harmony and self-completeness in this as in the intellec- 
tual part of our nature. In speaking of either as being 
harmonious, we are of course to look rather to the ideal 
than the actual development of it. From the intellectual 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED REL1GTON. 263 

nature we are to extrude, as so many superficial flaws or 
excrescences, the errors and bewilderments which have 
always in fact abounded in it ; we say that it is complete, 
or harmonious, not because its operations are in fact free 
from errors, but because it contains within itself the 
mechanism, so to speak, for detecting and purging away 
those errors. So of the moral nature ; it may in like 
manner be termed harmonious, when viewed ideally, if 
its vices and sins are only superficial things, which the 
soul contains within itself the means of extruding, in the 
idealizing tendency conjoined with the sense of moral 
obligation. To a very great extent, speaking still as one 
who has not yet accepted the truth of a revealed religion, 
this certainly appears to be the case. Many of those forces 
of our nature which in fact frequently impel us to evil deeds, 
many appetites and passions, are in themselves not merely 
innocent, but necessary ; and it is the misapplication of 
them, or the failure to subordinate them to higher motives 
— that is to say, it is simply a negative thing, the non- 
development of that which is higher — which perverts them 
into causes of moral evil. But, after the fullest allowance 
has been made for this, it still appears to be somewhat 
questionable whether there is not in the world a residuum 
of moral evil which cannot be thus explained away. Pro- 
pensities to evil appear to be in some measure hereditary. 
How large is the inheritance of the human race, in this 
respect, is a matter very difficult to estimate. That evil is 
subordinated to good, so that it may truly be pronounced 
to be comparatively a mere superficial thing in man's 
nature, seems to be pretty certain. But there yet appears 
to remain a certain " mystery of evil" which forbids us 
confidently to pronounce the moral nature of man to be, 
even ideally, in harmony with itself. If this be so, the 
inference that a regeneration of the soul, if requisite for 



264 THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 

the restoration of such harmony, must, apart from revela- 
tion, be a matter of certainty, is not a legitimate one. 

It may very likely be thought that this portion of the 
argument has been too much laboured. More persons, I 
dare say, will be disposed to doubt the necessity of this 
renewal of the inward nature, than to hold that the fact of 
such a renewal can be proved by natural reason alone. 
Nothing but the importance of the conclusion could excuse 
the length to which this chapter has already run. 

But the conclusion, if it be a sound one, certainly is 
important. We seem led, by a chain of reasoning based 
on the recognition of the primary beliefs of man's nature, 
to the conclusion that reason alone is inadequate to satisfy 
the requirements of that nature, unless supplemented by 
revelation. Philosophy thus proves itself, not, as it has 
too often been thought, the antagonist, but the hand- 
maid, of Christianity. Without any undue narrowing or 
cramping of its range, but, on the contrary, whilst vindi- 
cating the utmost latitude to it, we have seen that philo- 
sophy, unshackled and left to itself, ends its career by 
taking refuge in faith ; in faith, not blind nor irrational, 
not scepticism in disguise, but such as, recognizing the 
vast and ample domain of reason, recognizes also a region 
that lies beyond it. 

At this point, then, philosophy abdicates in favour of 
theology. The Christian religion presents to us the assur- 
ance of this new birth, which we have discerned to be 
needed. It shows to us how the seeming contrariety be- 
tween God's absolute justice and man's need of regeneration 
is to be reconciled. It alone enables us to ascend that 
height, inaccessible to human reason, at which the law which 
binds together acts and their consequences, so that there 
is a continual flow of retribution in the moral, as of causa- 
tion in the natural, order of existence, ceases to operate 



THE PROVINCE OF REVEALED RELIGION. 265 

It does this, through an exhibition of the most solemn and 
affecting kind, an exhibition operative not through the 
intellect alone, not alone upon the few who can carry on 
great trains of abstract thought, but having power, as 
history and experience prove, mightily to transform the 
lives and inmost natures of whole generations of men — the 
exhibition, namely, of that mysterious act of divine love 
by which the Son of God, in some transcendent sense One 
with the Creator, became man, lived amongst us, and died 
to redeem us. 



266 



CHAPTEE II. 

THE LIMITS OP AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 

Supposing that there is a religion which claims to De- 
based upon a revelation of God's will, either recorded in a 
book or deposited with a living and continuous church ; 
and supposing that a man thinks he has satisfied himself 
as to the external historical evidences in support of that 
claim ; are there, or are there not, it may be asked, any 
limits, fixed by reason or the moral sense, to the demands 
which that book or that church may make on his belief, 
and, if there are limits, what are they ? 

When one has made the great step from natural to 
revealed religion, he may fairly expect to find some truths 
taught him upon authority, such as are at any rate dif- 
ferent from those which he has himself been able to gather 
by the exercise of his reasoning faculties. It seems not 
unlikely that the former may, in appearance at least, con- 
tradict in, some respects the latter. Yet, as it is through 
his reasoning faculties, more or less, that he has come to 
know that the so-called authority has a rightful claim on 
his submission, it is conceivable that a violent degree of 
contradiction between authority and reason might be fatal 
to the former ; since an authority which should, by per- 
petually pronouncing on the side adverse to reason, induce 
a scepticism as to the validity of the reasoning faculties, 
could hardly prevail on that scepticism not to extend itself 
to the process by which those faculties had first brought 
the man to accept the authority. 



THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 267 

In order to discuss the question here propounded with 
any chance of coming to a conclusion, it seems necessary 
to narrow it, by defining beforehand some of the condi- 
tions on which a solution shall depend. This may be done 
by bringing in the conclusions arrived at in the preceding 7 
chapters of this volume. Let the question now before us 
be argued, then, simply as it exists for those persons who 
accept the conclusions, theological as well as philosophical, 
set forth in those chapters. 

In them was presented a train of thought by which a 
man who shall have attempted to construct for himself 
a system of philosophy and of natural theology, may be- 
led at last to discern the need within his own nature of 
an authoritative, i.e., an historical or external, revelation as 
to certain matters of fact ; and not only this, but to infer 
from the existence of the need a strong antecedent proba- 
bility in favour of the existence of the thing needed. 

One who shall have approached revealed religion from- 
this side may reasonably hope to find in it the fulfilment 
of two conditions, viz., that it shall satisfy the need re- 
ferred to, and that it shall do this without breaking down 
the ladder by which he has mounted to that point. 

Concerning the first of these conditions, which is by far 
the most important, very little needs here to be said* 
Happily, so far as the Christian religion is concerned, 
there is scarcely one of its many sects or schools in which 
the "peculiar truth" of this religion, — the provision of a 
divine machinery, so to speak, for the regeneration of the 
soul of man, — is not contained. Even those which are 
least " orthodox" have for the most part, at any rate, some 
adumbration of this doctrine. It is indeed hardly possible 
to profess oneself a follower, in any sense, of Jesus, and at 
the same time wholly to ignore or deny that " new birth" 
which was so conspicuous a portion of His teaching. 



268 THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 

Again, even those sects which seem in our Protestant 
estimation — and why should I hesitate to add, which in 
point of fact are — the most sunk in degrading superstitions, 
still maintain this great truth, though it may be almost 
smothered in errors. Thus far, therefore, there is a fra- 
ternity amongst us all. 

There is about the " Catholic faith," when held sincerely 
and in its fulness, a species of internal evidence, derived 
from the manner in which it satisfies and nourishes that 
which is best and highest in our own nature. This fact is 
recognized even by those who hold the faith itself to be an 
illusion. There is a species of restlessness — a feeling of 
incompleteness — a dim sense of being in search for one 
knows not what — in minds which are to a certain degree 
awakened to a spiritual life, yet have not reached this 
faith, or, for whatever reason, have refused to surrender 
themselves to it. On the other hand, when one is so 
fortunate as to believe these things heartily, with or with- 
out logical grounds, one feels oneself, so long as the belief 
lasts, to be in a manner at home. If we could only abstain 
from rationalizing; be content with the result, without 
investigating the evidence ; think only of the salutary 
effect of this faith upon ourselves, without perplexing 
ourselves with questions touching the fate of those to whom 
this faith has not been given; if, in a word, we could 
accept this religion in childlike simplicity ; then, as we 
learn from the lives of Christian men in all ages, we should 
be capable of heights of sanctit}', fortitude, self-denial, and 
unselfishness, such as in no other way, that we know of, 
can be reached : we should be sustained by a mystical 
communion, in the strength of which all human ills would 
fail to touch us, and all human affinities, the very dearest, 
would seem remote : we should enjoy a peace, settled and 
firm ; our souls would "dwell at ease/' 



THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 269 

Let us be careful to state nothing with exaggeration. 
We must neither magnify this psychological fact beyond 
its true dimensions, nor overlook the circumstance that it 
may possibly be to some extent accounted for, in a manner 
entirely independent of the truth or falsity of the religion 
in question. 

That a very high degree of moral excellence, in the- 
very directions here referred to, — viz., as regards fortitude, 
self-denial, love to man and fear of God, — is attainable 
without a Christian's faith, can scarcely be denied. We 
should perhaps hardly be justified in stating the distinction 
between Christian and non- Christian morality more strongly 
than this, — that there is about the former a certain mixture 
of sensitiveness and tranquillity which is unattainable by 
the latter. The Christian alone, apparently, can perfectly 
and habitually feel himself to be in the position of a child 
at once tremulously anxious to do his utmost to please his 
father, and convinced that his father will make the most 
indulgent allowance for his short-comings. The Christian 
alone, also, is truly raised above the troubles and anxieties 
of life, not only as affecting himself, but as affecting those 
who are most dear to and depending upon him ; and on 
this account has so much the more of mental energy to> 
spare for things which are less secular. 

Now it is true that these differences in his favour may, 
to some extent at least, be accounted for by a bare con- 
sideration of the kind of things which he believes, whether 
those things be in reality true or false. He believes that 
he has been restored to a state of purity, and is thus 
emancipated from that scornful and reproachful retrospect 
of his own past life which is to other men a cause of little- 
ness, by discouraging the aspiration after something higher : 
he believes in a future life, which reduces to comparative 
insignificance all that is not spiritual in the present : above 



270 THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 

all, lie believes in the presence and mystical communion 
of a Friend, able and willing to shield him and his from 
all real evil. These beliefs, so long as he holds them, be 
they illusions and no more, appear sufficient to account for 
this full inward contentment which is the main source of 
his spiritual strength. 

Still, when all this has been fairly allowed for, there 
remains the fact, that the nature of man is such that these 
lofty thoughts are felt to be, not extravagant, but congenial 
and in a manner natural and appropriate to it. This cir- 
cumstance of itself appears sufficient, from the harmony of 
created things, to afford a certain presumption (subject to 
the limitations pointed out in the preceding chapter) that 
the things thus believed are probably true. 

Thus the case stands with us, so long as we are content 
not to rationalize, but to accept the religion on trust, with- 
out enquiring into the objective historical evidences in its 
support. And this in fact is the case with the vast majority 
of mankind ; at any rate, except during seasons of unsettle- 
ment of theological opinion. 

In such seasons, however, which seem to recur periodi- 
cally, many men — and in all seasons some men, who are of 
a questioning temper — are impelled to quit this happy 
resting- ground, and to search out for themselves the foun- 
dations upon which their security has been laid. It is idle 
to declaim against this propensity. It is a propensity 
rooted in the nature of man, and placed there, we cannot 
doubt, for some wise purpose. 

Thus we are brought to the second condition of a revealed 
religion which is to maintain itself in the allegiance of 
mankind, and, in particular, of the man who has been once 
led to it by a process sucli as that described in this volume: 
not only must it satisfy his spiritual need, but it must be 
defensible, on every side whence attack can be apprehended, 



THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 271 

by reasonings of such a nature as not to invalidate the 
chain of argument which has first brought him to the 
reception of it. 

The necessity for this is pretty evident. A man who 
out of scepticism has, by such a process as has here been 
described, emerged into religious convictions, may not un- 
naturally be for a good while carried by these new con- 
victions smoothly along with the current theological spec- 
ulations of the sect or school to which he has attached 
himself. The mere relief to the intellect afforded by the 
process of leaning on an external authority will serve to 
keep his misgivings asleep, for some time after the first 
zeal of his conversion shall have passed away. Sooner or 
later, however, both the stimulant and the narcotic will 
have expended their strength, and the long disused habit 
of inquisitiveness will revive. It is pretty certain that one 
of the first questions to be then considered will be this : — If 
I were to repeat the mental process which I have been going 
through, should I again arrive at the same result ? Now, 
in thus travelling over the ground a second time, our en- 
quirer does so with a difference. He brings to the earlier 
stages the knowledge which he has acquired, and the 
opinions he has formed, at the latest : he collates the two 
together, with a natural preference for those later-formed 
opinions which lie nearest to his then present state of mind. 
If, then, there be an incurable inconsistency between the 
two sets of opinions, he finds himself checked and inter- 
rupted from the very outset, and is unable to reconstruct, 
with any satisfaction to himself, that old train of reasoning 
which had first led him to the threshold of revealed religion. 
"What is he to conclude ? Not, perhaps, necessarily, that 
lie has been mistaken with regard to these later-formed 
opinions: not, that the religion is not true: but, at any 
rate, that he individually has approached the religion in 



272 THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 

the wrong way, that the ladder by which he had mounted 
to that height has broken down, and that he is left in the 
clouds, he knows not how. He can help no fellow- mortal 
to climb by the way that he himself came up. 

This is a position, to say the least of it, very tempting 
to scepticism. The man who finds himself placed in it 
must have a very poor opinion of his own intelligence. 
He has, with immense pains, after the expenditure most 
likely. of many years, given himself a very striking prac- 
tical proof of the infirmity of human reason. The chances 
are that he will either abandon the struggle altogether, and 
take refuge in some servile form of church or book idolatry, 
or become a mere hypocrite, or relapse into open infidelity ; 
in any case a scepticism, covert or open, threatens to be the 
result. And unhappily, the keener and more vigorous his 
intellect, the greater is the probability of such a termination. 

The paradox of religion will present itself to a mind in 
this situation under the following form : — I set out with a 
faith in what may be termed the instincts of my intellec- 
tual and moral nature ; I found myself constructed from 
my birth, so to speak, prone and apt to entertain certain 
opinions ; these were no private opinions of my own, nor 
was this aptitude for them any peculiarity ; the human 
race, I found, was endowed with the same tendency- 
Every variety of circumstances amidst which men were 
placed appeared alike, though not perhaps all with equal 
rapidity, to develop these primary beliefs of the species. 
The alternative which alone presented itself to a logical 
mind, seeking above all for self-consistency, was cither 
to reject these primary beliefs, and so to plunge into the 
most absolute scepticism, or to accept them altogether ; that 
is to say, after once being thoroughly convinced, upon a 
searching analysis, that this or that belief was truly pri- 
mary in this sense, to accept the existence of the belief 



THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 273 

as a sufficient guarantee that the thing so believed was 
true. Of this alternative I accepted the latter member. 
By this way of thinking I was led, through a chain of 
reasoning which still appears to me irrefragable, to the 
conviction that the existence of certain spiritual needs 
within my nature, of which I was and still am conscious, 
carried with it the reasonable expectation — still, like all 
the rest, a matter of faith — that there must be, somewhere 
or other, a provision by which those needs would be satis- 
fied. Such a provision I found, complete, satisfactory, 
wonderful, conveying all that I could desire. So far well. 
I found, however, that, in order to lay hold and to retain 
hold of that provision, it was necessary for me likewise to 
receive certain doctrines, inextricably interwoven with it, 
which, not transcended but contradicted, on this side and 
on that, primary beliefs of the intellect and primary beliefs 
of the moral nature. From this contradiction I was con- 
strained to conclude that some primary beliefs might be 
illusory. I was mistaken, then, either in holding that the 
authority of all primary beliefs rested on the same basis, 
so that all must stand or fall together ; or else in holding 
that any primary beliefs could be accepted as authoritative. 
I cannot discover any ground for drawing a distinction 
amongst the primary beliefs, nor yet for arbitrarily select- 
ing some and rejecting others, from motives of mere con- 
venience. I am driven, then, to reject them all. But, 
rejecting all, I part with those which led me to the accept- 
ance of a revelation. The web which had been woven 
with so much pains is completely unravelled. Thus I am 
brought round at last to that thorough-going scepticism, 
which it' seems I did wrong in ever quitting. 

All this is of course on the supposition that there is a 
necessary and incurable contradiction between the acces- 
sories of the religion and the primary beliefs of the human 

18 



274 THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 

mind. If there be, the legitimate conclusion is scepticism ; 
if there be not, it is not so. 

It is scepticism : it is not merely that my way of ap- 
proaching the religion was erroneous. It is not now open 
to me to begin afresh, along a new path ; for a proof has 
been given to me that my primary beliefs are inconsistent 
with one another, and consequently are wholly unreliable. 
But, without the aid of primary beliefs, I have no power 
of estimating the force of external, historical evidence : 
I cannot, therefore, attain to the belief in a revelation by 
any natural means. If I am to receive it, it must be by 
some supernatural illumination, which I now, made scep- 
tical as to primary beliefs, have no means of distinguishing 
from the illusions of delirium. 

Thus we seem driven to the conclusion that there is one 
absolute limit to the supremacy of revelation over reason : 
a revealed religion must be able to maintain itself against 
assault, by arguments which do not contradict the primary 
beliefs of the human race. 

It may be well, at once, since the prevalent tendency of 
scepticism in theology is to assail the supernatural, that is 
the miraculous, character of the Christian documents, to 
point out that, however this controversy may stand in 
itself, there appears to be nothing contradictory to the 
philosophy of primary beliefs in the opinion that miracles 
have taken place. What has been said concerning causa- 
tion leaves room — which some philosophies do not — for 
the possibility of a miracle, in the plain popular sense of 
the word, i.e., of a break, by an act of divine volition, in 
the series of causation, or, in other words, in the uniformity 
of physical sequences. For, this chain goes no further back 
than to volition. Every act, even of human volition, is, in 
a modified form, an example of such a break ; limited, 
indeed, in its power of operation, so soon as it comes into 



THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 275 

<xmtact with, things corporeal, but thus limited, apparently, 
only because the power of the human mind over matter is 
not absolute. We have but to suppose a will absolutely 
sovereign over matter, and we can readily conceive that 
such a will might at pleasure break in upon, and vary in 
any direction, these material sequences to which we give 
the name of natural causes and effects. Our philosophy 
does not make necessity sovereign over even human will ; 
still less, over the divine. That such variations, arbitrary 
and fitful, if we please to call them so, or rather, as it is 
wiser and more reverent to term them, springing from 
motives beyond our fathoming, do not occur very fre- 
quently, is a mere contingent fact, learnt from experience ; 
and the degree of infrequency is a mere matter of evidence, 
or in other words of observation, not even conjecturable a 
priori : whence the possibility of miracles must be inferred. 
We may go a step beyond bare possibility. There is, it 
appears, in the human mind, and this not alone, perhaps 
not principally, in the illiterate, but everywhere and amongst 
all, a certain aptitude, and one might almost say eagerness, 
for the reception of supernatural narratives. This is so 
marked a phenomenon, that it seems hardly possible to 
believe that any religion, which should be wholly divested 
of the miraculous element, would be capable of any wide 
popular acceptance. Almost if not quite every form of 
false religion, ancient or modern, from Buddhism to Mor- 
monism, pretends to be attested by miracles. It may 
perhaps be possible to explain away this singular tendency 
of the human mind, to resolve it into other elements, and 
so to show that it is derivative, and then that it is un- 
healthy or a sign of intellectual childishness. Until this 
shall have been done, however, the existence of this ten- 
dency, so wide-spread, and so apparently permanent, affords, 
on the principles of this philosophy of primary beliefs, a 



276 



THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 



strong presumption that this receptivity for the miraculous 
indicates the objective existence of a something external 
which answers to, and is to satisfy it. Thus the existence 
of miracle appears, not possible merely, but probable. 

Further, the nature of that doctrine which is distinc- 
tively the Christian revelation, is such, that there appears 
to be a certain harmony and fitness, so to speak, in having 
the announcement of it introduced and accompanied by 
supernatural facts. It is itself a doctrine of so transcen- 
dent a character ; so breaking in upon, though without 
contradicting, the conclusions we should be apt to frame 
by mere unassisted reason ; raising the mind to such 
heights of wonder ; carrying us so entirely into a super- 
sensible region ; that it would seem almost more surprising 
if it should have confronted us amongst the everyday 
realities of ordinary life, than when we find it heralded by 
angels and a wonderful star, and bearing along with it 
into the world such disturbances of life's ordinary laws, as 
to make us feel, tangibly and corporeally, that we are 
amongst the wonders of that unknown universe, of whose 
vast shadow we are at all times dimly and mysteriously 
conscious. 

Thus far, perhaps, reason may lead us in this direction. 
All beyond is matter of evidence, belongs to theology, and 
would be out of place in this treatise. What has been 
said may suffice to show that the miraculous character of 
the Christian evidence is not contradictory to the philo- 
sophy of primary belief. 

This miraculous element renders one of the ordinary 
canons of historical criticism inapplicable to the criticism 
of the Christian sacred books. We cannot, in the case of 
these books, pronounce the record of a supernatural fact as 
ipso facto null, nor as casting a suspicion of untrustworthi- 
ness around it. We do this with Herodotus or Livy ; but 



THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 277 

\here, when we have got so far as to believe a miracle to be 
possible, probable, and even suitable, the historian's scepti- 
cism as to the marvellous would be out of place. A vast 
accumulation of inductive evidence justifies the secular 
historian in holding it as established that, in the ordinary 
relations of public as well as private life, even at the most 
eventful crises of national well being, Divine Providence 
does not see fit to vary the uniformity of physical sequences. 
This probability, however, does not really come into opera- 
tion when it is a question of the great transaction recorded 
in the New Testament ; this being an act absolutely 
unique and unparalleled, and affecting those spiritual deeps 
of man's nature which bring him into relation with the 
unseen and supersensible world. 

Are there not, however, other canons of historical cri- 
ticism, which are as strictly applicable to the historical 
record of this revelation as to any other histories ? And 
will not the bold and honest application of these canons to 
the Scriptures lead us to conclusions very much at vari- 
ance with the English popular theology of the present 
day ? These are questions which at present appear to be 
forcing themselves upon the public attention. 

Upon these questions, vast as is the importance of them, 
I do not here pretend to touch. I shall content myself 
with some reflections which appear to show that, pending 
these controversies, and indeed whatever may be the issue 
of them, there is nothing in the profession of, at any rate, 
lay membership of the Church of England, which is neces- 
sarily incompatible with the maintenance of the condition 
above referred to, viz., that revealed religion must be able 
to maintain itself against assault, by arguments which do 
not contradict the primary beliefs of the human mind. 

The standing point of the Church of England, as distin- 
guished from Eoman Catholicism on the one hand, and 



278 THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 

from Protestant dissent on the other, I take to be this ; 
that we base our religion upon the Bible, as interpreted by 
the Church, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. 

The canonical Scriptures, in the first place, contain, we 
are taught to believe, everything that is necessary to salva- 
tion. That is to say, without rationalizing as to the nature 
and extent of inspiration — a mysterious subject which w& 
cannot pretend to fathom by d priori reasoning — we are to 
believe that from these books there may be gathered as 
full, trustworthy, and circumstantial an account of the 
great fact of man's redemption ; as complete an exhibition 
of the true relations between man and his Maker ; as clear 
a rule of conduct ; and as moving incentives to right 
action ; as shall satisfy the requirements of man's nature 
during his sojourn upon earth. Further than this, the 
Articles of our religion and the Formularies, which are the 
sole authoritative conditions of membership, do not go. 
Those theologians who attempt to abridge the right of 
admission to our Church within narrower limits than this,. 
are unlawfully (though I dare say with the most praise- 
worthy intentions) attempting to curtail Christian liberty. 
We have absolute latitude to believe or to disbelieve that 
all the statements of facts in these books are literally and 
historically true. There is nothing unorthodox in hold- 
ing that there is in them a considerable mixture of pure 
mythos or fable ; that what is set down there as simple 
history is as little trustworthy in many of its circumstances 
as any other ancient history ; that science contradicts- 
many of the assertions made in these books ; that some 
passages indicate in the writers a very imperfect state of 
moral culture ; that certain portions of their teaching, 
whether in the way of example or precept, would, if taken 
alone and unmodified or uncorrected by other portions, be 
highly dangerous ; in a word, that this collection of books. 



THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 279 

is not pure refined silver, but rather silver in the ore, 
largely mixed with baser matter. I do not assert that 
these propositions are true; simply that they may with 
perfect right be held by any member of the Church of 
England. 1 

This latitude is entirely conformable with the philo- 
sophy of Primary Beliefs, as here propounded. An a priori 
theory of revelation, which should pronounce beforehand, 
from the nature of things, that revelation must be such or 
such, would be inconsistent with that inductive method which 
this philosophy insists on from first to last. We do not sup- 
pose ourselves to know to the bottom, and from the bottom, 
even the nature of man ; still less, the nature of Grod. We 
are incapable, therefore, of constructing a necessary theory 
of revelation. What revelation ought to be, can only be 
gathered in the way of probability, from observing what 
revelation in fact is. To this end, we should invite and 
encourage, not repel and fear, the most searching criticism 
of our sacred books. The criticism even of professed 
enemies will be valuable to us, as it may be expected to be 
the severest and the boldest. We should regard it, there- 
fore, as the greatest calamity for our religion, were it 
hemmed in by any restrictions, in the way of Creed or 
Article, which should militate against the freedom of these 
investigations. 

1 " Tillotson suggests, and almost gives it as his own opinion, that whole 
books, for instance, the Book of Proverbs, are uninspired. Baxter (who 
refused a bishopric, and was an ordained minister of the Church of England) 
considered parts of the Psalms immoral. Chillingworth speaks in the most 
slighting manner of Ecclesiastes. "Warburton elaborately defends the doc- 
trine of what he calls ' partial inspiration.' Bishop Marsh translated 
Michaelis, and declared his approval of that author's belief that the Gospel 
of St. Luke was not inspired. Bishop Horsley said that he would ' strenu- 
ously contend' for the right of controverting the truth of passages in the 
Bible, which might contradict science. Archbishop Whately said that more 
was not to be expected of the historical books of the Old Testament than that 
they should be instructive and honestly written." (Fraser's Magazine, vol. 
lxx., pp. 658-659.) 



280 THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 

Negatively, it appears, our Church has, though indi- 
rectly, } T et most expressively, pronounced against the doc- 
trine that the Bible is a mere aggregation of oracles, every 
single portion of which is supernaturally freed from all 
admixture of human error. She has done so, by her doc- 
trine concerning the efficacy and uses of a church. For, 
were the Bible such, there could be no need of a church, 
unless for the very humble business of reading and other- 
wise disseminating Bibles. Every man who could read 
could dispense with the offices of a minister of religion. 
And to this very logical conclusion the matter seems to 
have been pushed by the Society of Friends. 

Not so the Church of England. She, in her Articles 
and Liturgy, distinctly recognises, it appears, the institu- 
tion of the visible Church of Christ. For this body are 
claimed the promises of our Lord : " the gates of hell shall 
not prevail against it;" " where two or three are gathered 
together, there am I in the midst of you ;" and "Lo, I 
am with you always, even to the end of the world." To 
this body is not simply entrusted the task of organizing 
and keeping in motion a certain machinery for the evan- 
gelization of the world; not simply the custodianship of 
sacred oracles ; but there is also given to it the promise of 
a divine guidance, by the aid of which it shall be enabled 
to make, from time to time, developments of Christian 
doctrine, and, so far as practicable from the nature of the 
case, to adapt the religion to the varying circumstances of 
time and country. " The Church hath authority in con- 
troversies of faith." 

Yet, with all this, the visible church, as it exists upon 
earth, in a concrete shape, that is to say, as it is embodied 
in particular churches, not only is not infallible, but, as we 
are to believe, " lias erred, not only in living and manner 
of ''''lvmonies, but also in matters of faith." 



THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 281 

The authority thus given to the church, with this limi- 
tation to it, is matter simply of revelation to us ; it is not 
discoverable d priori by the reasonings of natural theology. 
There is in it, however,— which is all that it is here neces- 
sary to state, — nothing at variance with the principles of 
the philosophy or theology of primary beliefs. On the 
contrary, it is precisely such as might have been antici- 
pated, of course only in the way of reasonable conjecture, 
from those principles. 

For, as has been shown, that process of gradual self- 
development by which the highest and purest possibilities 
of the human soul are, mainly through the idealizing 
tendencies, brought forth into conscious vitality, is not a 
solitary process. One principal stimulus to it is given in 
the sympathetic action of mind upon mind. The idiosyn- 
crasies of each need and obtain correction by the more 
enlarged knowledge of human nature which is acquired 
through this process. This is not more certainly true of 
the active than of the purely intelligential portion of our 
nature. We cannot learn the possibilities of man as man 
except through the discipline of social life. Thus a certain 
"communion of saints" is an indispensable condition to- 
wards growth in saintliness. And in this sympathetic 
study of, and fellow-working with, minds congenial with 
our own, which raises the lower nature through intimate 
affinity with the higher, we have the germ of a church. 

That "particular churches" are liable to error, is no 
more than might have been conjectured from the con- 
sideration, that the development of the nature of man as 
man, here spoken of, is a gradual process, towards which 
each particular form of civilization does but contribute a 
portion. We are to learn this nature, not merely from 
what we ourselves personally can become, not merely from 
what this or that generation of men has produced, but 



282 THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 

from what the human race, in all ages up to the latest 
point of time which we have reached, has been and is. 
Our children, perhaps, may learn deeper truths, under a 
more favourable culture, than are attainable by ourselves. 
Thus, as the world grows older, there may be growing up 
a more truly catholic church ; and this church is not to be 
hidebound by the traditions, but must have liberty to dis- 
cover and to discard the errors, of the past. 

We need, however, some supreme and infallible guide to 
truth. If the Bible itself is not a mere collection of 
oracles, but demands some process of selection, comparison, 
or criticism, such as falls within the province of a church ;. 
if that church exists for each of us individually only in the 
form of " particular churches ;" and if particular churches 
are liable to error ; what is that guide which is to disclose 
and to correct these errors, and from time to time purge 
and purify the religion of a particular age ? 

To this question we are taught by the catholic church to 
answer, — the illumination of the Holy Spirit. 

This again is a truth given to us by revelation, and it 
transcends, but still without contradicting, the conclusions 
of mere human reason. Not only does it not contradict,, 
it entirely harmonizes with, those conclusions. 

Something has already been said concerning that mys- 
tical communion between the soul of man and its maker, 
which has in all ages been felt as a necessity for the inward 
life of the soul ; which has supported and nourished that 
life ; the deprivation of which has been felt as the most 
intolerable burthen. On this mysterious subject a man 
can only speak with faltering lips. One who should pre- 
tend with accuracy to distinguish what portions of those 
"promptings from the penetralia" of his mind or heart 
are truly his own, and what portions arc given to him 
from some source external to himself, may justly be sus- 



THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 283 

pected of enthusiasm or untruthfulness. But no one, who 
has either felt within himself, or has learnt from the 
experiences of minds saintlier than his own, that which 
such minds know of these inner promptings, can hold it as 
incredible that in this way divine truths are made known 
to men, by an illumination which transcends the under- 
standing. One who has learnt to reverence, as things 
sacredly to be accepted, beliefs emplanted within his own 
nature, unaccountable, unverifiable from without, is pre- 
pared beforehand to accept the Christian doctrine concern- 
ing the influence of the Holy Spirit, through a personal 
inspiration guiding men to all truth. 

The best antidote to the dangers and abuses to which 
this doctrine is liable, is a reasonable submission to the 
authority of the church ; by which we may be prevented 
from mistaking our private fancies and personal preju- 
dices for the results of a supernatural inspiration. The 
true safeguard against the false teaching of "particular 
churches" is the conviction that every such church is liable 
to error. But, when the teaching of the church, and the 
witness of the Spirit in a man's heart and conscience, are 
found to coincide, there is for that man a sufficient assur- 
ance that he is so far in possession of the truth. 

Thus it appears that, in its main features, the doctrine 
of the Church of England can stand the test which a 
reasonable religion must be subjected to ; there is in it 
nothing irreconcileable with the primary beliefs of the 
human mind. And this should be sufficient for a layman. 
He may fairly leave to professed theologians the vindica- 
tion of minor details. It is perfectly open to him, whilst 
still adhering to this church, to hold that in many respects 
it needs reformation. He may lament that there should 
be, speaking generally, so wide a divergence between what 
may be called the clerical, and the lay, tone of feeling upon 



284 THE LIMITS OF AUTHORITY IN THEOLOGY. 

many important subjects. He may deplore the timidity 
with which bishops and clergymen appear to shrink from 
controversies which deeply interest laymen. He may 
think that ceremonial is too much thought of by one 
school, whilst intellectual and moral paradoxes are too 
fondly clung to by another. It may go very much against 
the grain with him to see religion defended with weapons 
borrowed from the armoury of scepticism. Still, whatever 
may be his estimation of that which happens for the mo- 
ment to be the "popular theology," if he believes, looking 
to the Church of England as it has been from the days of 
the Reformation to the present, and judging her from her 
Articles and Liturgy, and not from popular pulpits, that 
she is the truest representative, at this day, of pure and 
apostolical Christianity, it is certainly his duty to remain 
in the communion of that church. 



285 



CHAPTEK III. 

THE ATHAtfASIAtf CREED. 

" "Whosoever will be saved, before all tbings it is neces- 
sary tbat be bold tbe Catbolic Faitb ; wbicb faith except 
every one do keep wbole and undefiled, without doubt be 
sball perisb everlastingly/' Tben follow a string of dog- 
matic propositions, setting fortb, witb mucb precision of 
language, tbe nature of tbe Holy Trinity, and of tbe union 
of tbe divine and buman nature of Cbrist ; and tbis creed 
is wound up witb tbe solemn reiteration, "This is tbe 
Catbolic faitb, wbicb except a man believe faithfully, be 
cannot be saved. " 

It bas seemed good to tbe Cburcb of England tbat these 
statements, in tbe form of a distinct asseveration of belief, 
sbould be recited by every congregation, on certain espe- 
cially solemn occasions. We are told in tbe Articles tbat 
tbis creed "ougbt tborougbly to be received and believed ;" 
for it "may be proved by most certain warrants of Holy 
Scripture." 

Now it undoubtedly may be tbat in tbis our cburcb bas 
acted wrongly. It is open to us, saving our allegiance to 
tbat cburcb, to suppose tbat tbis is one of those cases, 
referred to in another article, in wbicb particular churches 
bave erred in matters of faitb. If tbis be so, it is certain 
tbat tbe error is sufficiently important to make it highly 
desirable tbat it should be boldly reconsidered and rectified. 



286 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 

But, before concluding that the church is in error, it is 
only fitting that men should first carefully enquire whether 
there may not be some sense in which the terrible words 
of the Athanasian creed may not revolt the moral sense, 
and so tend to alienate men from the religion, but express 
some great and perhaps all-important truth. 

There are various loose and illogical ways, various feeble 
compromises, by which men contrive to mitigate or evade 
the difficulty here referred to. Setting these aside as un- 
important, it seems that the controversy lies, at the present 
day, between two constructions of this creed, each of which 
has its partisans. 

Those who would understand the Athanasian creed in 
its " plain popular sense," would have us to believe that 
the Christian religion for the first time introduced into the 
world a new and very deadly crime called heterodoxy, 
which is punished by Almighty God with a severity such 
as is not surpassed, if equalled, in the case of any other 
offence whatever. The words "he cannot be saved" are 
taken to mean, that a man is destined to an eternity of 
wretchedness, in which he shall be incapable of restoration 
to God's favour, or to any approach to moral goodness, 
unless, within the few initial years of his sojourn upon 
earth, he shall have succeeded in attaining to a belief in 
certain dogmas, or propositions to be apprehended in the 
intellect. We are not even told whether this terrible 
penalty is contingent upon the man's having had the 
opportunity, during that period, of hearing those dogmas 
taught or even enunciated ; although it is agreed that they 
are such as he could not possibly have acquired by the 
mere unaided use of his natural faculties. 

It appears to be conceded — at any rate, conceded or no, 
Oic fact is certain — that the proposition, thus nakedly 
stated, is antagonistic to men's natural notions of human, 



THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 



287 



and consequently of divine, justice. It is maintained, 
however, that this antagonism is immaterial, because men's 
natural notions of justice are inadequate to measure God's 
justice as applied to men ; that which is just, as between a 
moral Governor of the Universe and his creatures, being 
such a thing as may, for aught we can tell, be something 
entirely different from any justice of which we can have a 
conception. 

On this view it does not appear to be material, whether 
the act of faith which is to rescue a man from this danger 
shall be an act accompanied by intelligence, and resulting 
from a reasonable conviction. The safest and simplest 
way of attaining to it, on the contrary, is usually con- 
sidered to be, by abstaining from rationalizing, by taking 
the creed as an act of faith, in childlike submission to the 
Church. 

There is, indeed, a real danger in being either severely 
logical or very ardently interested in the welfare of the 
human race. In the one case it is not improbable that our 
reason, in the other that our feelings, may cause us to miss 
the intellectually narrow way of orthodoxy. We may, by 
rationalizing, fall into the mistake of supposing that this 
creed is contradictory to the primary instincts of our 
nature, and is consequently incredible ; or, by overmuch 
sympathizing with the seemingly hard lot of the millions 
who must perish from never having heard this Gospel 
preached to them, be led to revolt against, and to feel a 
certain indignation or scorn, according to our tempera- 
ment, of that which may in such a mood appear to us an 
inappropriate culmination of the Gospel of glad tidings. 
In either case, by a singular perversion of that which 
appears to us justice, our very strength and fairness of 
intellect, or the most human of our feelings, may be the 
causes of our being " exiled for ever from Almighty God." 



288 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 

Indignation or scorn, however, would certainly be very 
much misplaced in such a controversy as the present. 
There are great difficulties on every side; and it is not 
to be supposed that a doctrine which for ages has satisfied 
the minds and consciences of the best and most ec light- 
ened men, and which in England at the present day is 
certainly the doctrine of the vast majority of devout Chris- 
tians, has not something very strong to be said in its- 
favour. 

Still, a man who has approached Christianity in the 
manner set forth in the preceding pages can hardly fail to 
be convinced that it is impossible for him to accept as true 
this or any other doctrine which is plainly and strongly at 
variance with the primary beliefs of his nature. If the 
choice lies between accepting this and abstaining from 
communion with the Catholic Church, he must feel him- 
self, however reluctantly, constrained to take the latter 
alternative. Happily, however, the Church of England 
by its own act relieves him, at any rate if he be a layman, 
from making this painful choice. He may, apparently, 
remain a member of the Church, and yet protest against 
these clauses in the Athanasian Creed, simply as not being 
true. He may deny that they are " to be proved by most 
certain warrants of Holy Scripture. ,, If isolated texts be 
quoted against him, he may appeal from them to the 
general tenour and spirit of the Gospels. If the authority 
of the Church be cited, he may reply, as has been said, 
that Churches themselves are not exempt from error ; and 
that the Catholic Church, in its true sense, is not the 
Church of the past alone, but also that of the future ; in 
other words, that it is capable of growth and expansion 
from age to age. 

Before proceeding even to this length, however, it is- 
propcr to consider the merits of another, comparatively 



THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 289 

inoffensive, construction which has been put upon these 
passages in the creed of St. Athanasius. 

Independently of any reference to a future life, the 
words above cited appear to have a meaning, and a very 
important meaning, with relation to the present. Whether 
any such secondary, if it be but secondary, meaning, was 
present to the mind of him who framed the Athanasian 
creed, or of those who first adopted it into the liturgy of 
the Catholic Church, or of those who, in drawing up our 
Articles, claimed for it acceptance from the members of 
the Church of England, are historical questions, interest- 
ing no doubt, but not of overwhelming importance at the 
present day. These are entirely beside the questions now 
before us, viz., whether there is not in these words a mean- 
ing which has no reference to future rewards or punish- 
ment, and whether that meaning is not a true one. 

It appears to be agreed on all hands that " to be saved" 
means, in the language of theology, not simply to be 
relieved from the penalty, but also to be rescued from the 
condition, of sinfulness. If faith in the atonement pro- 
duces for us the former, it does so by means of first pro- 
ducing the latter. Whether or no we receive the latter 
benefit, is, to a certain extent and with certain limitations, 
a matter within our own knowledge. The burthen of sin, 
the sense of a need for an emancipation from the tyranny 
of our own past, is a real and a tangible thing. If this 
be not so, then what has been written in the preceding 
chapters, by way of evolving a necessity for regeneration 
from the instincts of our nature, is totally undeserving of 
consideration. But, if it be so, then the being relieved 
from that burthen must likewise be a real and tangible 
thing ; and each man for himself must at any given 
moment be able with some confidence to affirm that he is, 
or that he is not, relieved from that burthen. It seems hardly 

19 



290 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 

possible to doubt that, whatever may be intended in these 
clauses with reference to the penalties for sin, they were in- 
tended likewise to, or at any rate they do, apply to the state 
of sin. It is impossible to believe that we can be rescued 
from sinfulness by some means which yet are inadequate to 
rescue us from the penalties of sin. The clauses must 
mean, then, that without such a faith as is there described 
it is not possible for men to be rescued from the burden- 
some sense of sin. 

Is there, then, any sense in which this proposition is, or 
can be, true ? 

If it be intended to affirm that, before men can really 
feel that their sinfulness is purged away, they must with 
clear consciousness grasp and believe all these complex 
propositions concerning the divine nature and its union 
with the human nature in our Redeemer, then the affirma- 
tion appears to be plainly contradicted by experience. 
How was it, it may be asked, with the pious Christians 
and good churchmen who lived before the Athanasian creed 
was written ? Can it, with any show of truth, be main- 
tained that, when the only symbol of faith was the Apostles' 
Creed, every man who was saved from sin by the Christian 
religion consciously apprehended and believed all those 
dogmas which were not expressed in an articulate form 
till many ages later ? And, at the present day, are there 
not many who experience the saving influence of the 
Christian religion, and yet do not acknowledge the truth 
of all that is contained in the Athanasian creed ? It seems 
impossible to answer this question in the negative. 

The case may be otherwise, however, if we put the ques- 
tion thus : — Must not every one, who is relieved from the 
burthen of sin by the regeneration rendered possible 
through faith in Christ, believe something which impli- 
citly contains, and therefore must by strict logical rea- 



THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 291 

soiling be developed into, the clauses of the Athanasian 
creed ? 

If this be so, then it may perhaps be perfectly legitimate 
to affirm that a belief in those clauses is a necessary condi- 
tion of salvation ; not in the sense that the clauses must be 
distinctly apprehended by the intellect ; nor that the man 
must acknowledge the connexion between that which he 
does believe and the clauses in the creed ; but that, whether 
he knows it or not, and even though he may never so 
positively deny it, he does believe a truth which carries 
with it, by a logical necessity totally independent of his 
being aware of it, the beliefs set forth in those clauses. 

Whether, in this limited sense, the " damnatory" clauses 
in the Athanasian creed may not convey a profound truth, 
is a question which is not lightly to be answered in the 
negative. It is a question which certainly cannot be 
answered demonstrably, either way, by d priori reasoning ; 
for, the necessary conditions of man's redemption may 
fairly be supposed to lie wholly beyond the range of such 
reasoning. For this reason, it does not appear competent 
to any man to pronounce that an affirmative answer to it 
would contradict the primary instincts of his nature. 

The appeal, then, lies to experience. One who should 
attempt to vindicate these clauses against an objector, 
might very properly, supposing that objector to recognize 
in common with himself the leading doctrines of Chris- 
tianity, or at any rate the doctrine of a redemption from 
sin through faith in Christ's sacrifice, maintain his ground 
by some such reasoning as the following : — 

How does the fact stand with yourself ? he would ask. 
Have you not found that, when you began to reflect at all 
deeply upon this mystery of an atoning sacrifice, your 
mind was led, by a species of irresistible moral necessity, to 
recognize that the Redeemer and the Father must be one ? 



292 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 

They must be One, in such a sense that there shall not have 
been one Being sitting aloof and suggesting or requiring a 
sacrifice, and another distinct Being offering and making 
the sacrifice. Should you not feel that such a conception 
would draw away your love and reverence from Him who 
required, and concentrate it upou Him who performed, 
that amazing act of divine love ? That which overwhelms 
your mind with grateful adoration, is the spectacle of the 
King, whose majesty has been outraged, Himself taking 
the place of the offenders, and out of His great love to 
mankind condescending to suffer that they may be enabled 
to escape. Is it possible entirely to sever Christ from the 
Godhead, without destroying, or at any rate going far to 
destroy, the moral influence which this atonement exerts 
over your inner nature through its affections ? 

If, however, you feel constrained to acknowledge that the 
Redeemer and the Father are thus one, have you not 
grasped the central thought, so to speak, of the Athanasian 
creed ? Is what remains of it anything more than the 
development of this thought, and the connecting it with 
what you already believe in other directions ? You are 
taught to deny that the Saviour was a creature, other than, 
and consequently essentially inferior to, the Creator him- 
self. You are taught to affirm, nevertheless, that He 
became " very man : of a reasonable soul and human flesh 
subsisting.'' This, again, you must necessarily believe, if 
you believe that Christ incarnate was not a phantom but a 
real historical person. If you do not believe this, can you 
really derive any spiritual benefit from the contemplation 
of his sacrifice ? Hoes not the whole theology then be- 
come, in your genuine apprehension, a mere unmeaning 
figment, which is inoperative on your life ? In other 
words, can you be " saved" by this faith unless you believe 
lli us P And, if you accept these two truths, that Christ is 



THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 293 

very God, and that He is very man, can you by any possi- 
bility bring these two beliefs into juxtaposition in your 
mind, without evolving conclusions identical, in substance, 
with the declarations of the Athanasian creed ? I might 
go further in the same direction, with reference to the 
third person in the Holy Trinity ; but this may suffice. 

It is difficult to see how any sincere believer in the 
atonement could refuse to answer these questions affirma- 
tively. When he has done so, he will have acknowledged 
himself to be conscious that, so far as he personally is con- 
cerned, the "damnatory" clauses in the Athanasian creed 
are true for him. He cannot, in this sense, be " saved," 
unless he holds the catholic faith, as defined in that creed. 

This being so, can he have a right to affirm that it is 
incredible, because opposed to his primarj^ instincts of 
moral justice, that that which he knows to be true for 
himself may likewise be true for the remainder of the 
human race ? If the limitation here spoken of is unjust 
for the race, how can it be just that he himself should be 
subject to it ? The latter, however, he finds to be a truth ; 
consequently it must be just ; for he is supposed to put 
faith in the justice of Almighty God. 

These considerations may at any rate serve to mitigate 
our repugnance to these clauses in the creed. They 
announce as true for the human race, it appears, that which 
each of us discovers to be true for himself. They proclaim 
truths which are not so distinctly and unequivocally enun- 
ciated in either of the other creeds ; and truths which it 
can hardly be thought unnecessary to proclaim, when it is 
considered that, in spite of the existence of this creed, the 
tendency of popular theology, perhaps always, certainly at 
the present day, is to "divide the substance " of Father 
and Son, — to cloud and distort the catholic faith, to intro- 
duce perplexing moral problems, and thereby to foster 



294 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 

infidelity, by this very neglect of the plain teaching of the 
Athanasian creed. 

Still, whilst recognizing the importance of maintaining 
the doctrinal portions of the Athanasian creed in their ful- 
ness, and whilst maintaining that there is a sense in which 
even the " damnatory clauses" may with no great violence 
to them be read so as to be not only inoffensive but very 
profitable, it must, I think, be acknowledged that the pro- 
priety of continuing the employment of these clauses in 
the general services of the church is very questionable. 
They are exceedingly liable to be, I will not say misunder- 
stood, but taken coarsely in their popular sense. And thit 
danger is much augmented by the presence in the same 
creed of another passage, which, it can hardly be denied, 
seems to furnish a reasonable warrant, from one point ol 
view, for holding them in this sense. I refer to that pas- 
sage which implies a perpetual fixity in the condition of 
the soul at the moment of death, or at any rate at the day 
of judgment, in saying "they that have done evil shall go 
into everlasting fire." 

On the mysterious and awful subject of the eternity of 
future punishment, it appears wise to maintain a certain 
reserve. There is little, beyond doubtful analogies, or 
inferences from expressions which seem to be more or less 
metaphorical, from which we can trace in the New Testa- 
ment a conclusion one way or the other. The Church of 
England may be said to have abstained from dogmatizing 
in it, so far as this may be inferred from the expunging of 
an article, which had been prepared with that object. 
What we may be certain of is that, whatever be the future 
destiny of the souls, whether of the righteous or the 
unrighteous, will Ik; that which is most consonant to the 
justice and the goodness of Almighty God. Wilh that 
irance we ma\ well rest content, not seeking to lift the 



THE ATHANASIAN CREED. 295 

veil which He, in His wisdom, has thought fit to leave 
there. If we must dogmatize, surely, whether or no it be 
the more orthodox, it seems to be the more blameless and 
human course that we should dogmatize on the side of 
mercy. Were we not somewhat blinded by party or theo- 
logical zeal, it would be thought incredible that a violent 
outcry should have been raised, and an attempt made to 
remove one or two otherwise inoffensive clergymen from 
their benefices, because they ventured to express a hope 
that mercy might be extended, after death, through some 
healing agency unknown to us, to souls which had passed 
out of the world guilty and impenitent. 

I feel, however, that I have been somewhat too far 
trespassing in the fields of theology. What I proposed to 
myself at the outset was simply to consider how far I my- 
self was honest, firmly holding the doctrine of " primary 
beliefs" as here set forth, in likewise holding fast to the 
membership of the Church of England. This question 
took a general shape ; for it was one that concerned me no 
otherwise than as it concerns every one who should accept 
the truth of the same philosophy. Still, personal or gene- 
ral, the question was a very important one. I found that 
the compatibility of the two adhesions depended on the 
question whether the general teaching of the Church of 
England was or was not consistent with the primary moral 
and intellectual instincts of human nature. That which 
has always been supposed to be the strongest instance of 
the divergence of reason and faith — the creed of Athana- 
sius — thus became the crucial instance with reference to 
which this consistency was to be tested. It is in this con- 
nexion, and for this purpose, solely, that I have entered 
upon an examination of this creed. The result appears to 
be, that, whilst in some respects we may strongly regret 
portions of its language, the creed itself does not appear 



296 THE ATHAXASIAN CREED. 

to be so plainly and violently opposed to the moral in- 
stincts of the human mind as to force upon us the choice 
between two extreme courses, — either to renounce the 
philosophy as disproved by the teaching of the church, or 
to renounce the church, as a teacher of that which is 
demonstrably false, as contradictory to the foundations of 
all human knowledge. This, and this alone, was the ques- 
tion which I proposed to myself at the outset for examina- 
tion. 

In closing this volume, therefore, I have now only to 
add that I am conscious of some presumption in having 
undertaken such a task, and of much imperfection in the 
performance of it. The occupation has been useful to my- 
self, in clearing, by the mere process of systematic writing, 
much that was obscure and confused in my mind when I 
began. If it proves of no use to others, it will speedily 
perish out of sight and be forgotten, and so do no harm. 
If its conclusions are erroneous, it is possible that some one 
may take the trouble to refute them, and so, by discussion, 
the cause of truth may be advanced. In any case, it is 
not easy for a writer, who does not seek to inflame popular 
passions or prejudices, but appeals solely to the reason, to 
do much mischief. 



TJIK KM). 



MMJII.N AI>IIN. I'KINTKtt, lIKKTfOHD. 



January, 1865. 



SELECT 

LIST OF WORKS 



PUBLISHED BY 



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Cureton (Eev. Dr.). Ancient Syriac Documents 

Relative to the Earliest Establishment of Christianity in Edessa and 
the neighbouring Countries, from the year after our Lord's Ascension 
to the beginning of the Fourth Century. Discovered, edited, trans- 
lated, and annotated by W. Cureton, D.D., Canon of Westminster. 
With a Preface by W. Wright, Ph. D., LL.D. 4to., cloth, 31*. 6d. 

Mar Jacob (Bp. of Edessa). Scholia on Passages 

of the Old Testament, now first edited in the original Syriac, with an 
English Translation and Notes by the Rev. G-. Phillips, D.D., 
President of Queen's College, Cambridge. 8vo., cloth. 5s. 

Barlow (H. C). Critical, Historical, and Philo- 
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Huxley and Hawkins. Comparative Osteology. 

An Elementary Atlas of Comparative Osteology. Consisting of 
Twelve Plates, drawn on stone by B. Waterhouse Hawkins, F.L.S. 
The figures selected and arranged by Professor T. H. Huxley, 
F.R.S. Imperial 4to., bound in cloth. " 25*. 

Huxley (Professor, F.E.S.). Evidence as to Man's 

Place in Nature, or Essays upon — I. The Natural History of the 
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III. Fossil Remains of Man. By T. H. Huxley, F.R.S. With 
woodcut illustrations. Third Thousand. 8vo., cloth. 6*. 

Lubbock (J.). Prehistoric Times, or Essays on 

the Primitive Condition of Man. as illustrated by ancient remains 
and the manners and customs of Modern Savages. By John 
Lubbock, F.R.S., President of the Ethnological Society. 1 vol., 
8vo., with numerous woodcut illustrations. (In the Press.) 



4 List of Works Published hi/ Williams and Norgate. 
Bengelii (Dr. Joh. Alb.). Gnomon novi Testa- 

menti in quo ex nativa verborum vi simplicitas, profunditas, concin- 
nitas, salubritas sensuum coelestium indicator. Edit. III. per filium 
superstitem E. Bexgel quondam curata Quinto recusa adjuvante 
J. Stetjdel. Royal 8vo. 1862. Cloth, boards. 12*. 
"Bengel's invaluable work — a work which manifests the profoundest and most 

intimate knowledge of Scripture, and which, if we examine it with care, will often 

be found to condense more matter into a line than can be extracted from pages of 

other writers." — Archdeacon Hare. 
*** In ordering this book, the edition published by Williams and Norgate, and 

Nutt, should be particularly specified, as a reprint of an old edition C1773), in every 

respect inferior, has been recently produced. 

Genesis of the Earth and of Man, or a History of 

Creation and the Antiquity of Races of Mankind : a Critical Exami- 
nation of Passages in the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures, relating to 
Questions of Geology and Ethnology, with supplementary observa- 
tions, physical, chronological, historical, and philological, on the 
antiquity and variety of our species. Edited, with a Preface, by 
R. S. Poole, M.E.S.L. Second edition, revised and enlarged. 
Crown 8vo., cloth. 6s. 

Bopp's Comparative Grammar of the Sanskrit, 

Zend, Greek, Latin, Lithuanian, Gothic, German, and Slavonic Lan- 
guages. Translated by Professor Eastwick, and edited by Professor 
H. H. Wilson. 3 vols., 8vo., cloth, boards. Third edition. 42s. 

Littledale (Eev. Dr.). Offices from the Service 

Books of the Holy Eastern Church, with a Translation, Notes, and 
Glossary. By Richard F. Littledale, LL.D. 1 vol. Crown 8vo., 
cloth. 6s. 

Lane (E. W.). Arabic-English Lexicon, derived 

from the best and most copious Eastern Sources, comprising a very 
large collection of Words and Significations omitted in the Kamoos, 
with Supplements to its abridged and defective explanations, ample 
grammatical and critical comments, and examples in prose and verse. 
Part I. (to consist of eight parts and a supplement). Royal 4to., 
cloth. 25s. 

Wright (Prof. ¥m.). Arabic Grammar, founded 

on the German Work of Caspari, with many Additions and Correc- 
tions. By William Wright, MS. Department, British Museum. 
Complete in 1 vol., 8vo., cloth. 15s. 

Vol. II., comprising the Syntax and an Introduction to Prosody, 

may be had separately, price 7s. 6d. 

An Arabic Chrcstomathy, with complete Glos- 
sary. By W. Weight, MS. Department, British Museum. 1 vol., 

Sv<>. (In the /'/Ysv.) 

Cowpcr (1*. H.). Syriac Grammar. The Prin- 

ciplea of Syriac Grammar, translated and abridged from that of 
Dr. HorFMAif, with additions by B. Harms Cowfeb. 0vo., cloth. 

7*. Ik/. 



List of Works Published by Williams and Nor gate. 5 
Cowper (B. EL). Syriac Miscellanies, or Extracts 

relating to the First and Second General Councils, and various other 
Quotations, Theological, Historical, and Classical, translated from 
MSS. in the British Museum and Imperial Library of Paris, with 
Notes. 8vo., cloth. 3s. 6d. 

Analecta Mcaena. Fragments relating 

to the Council of Nice. The Syriac Text from an ancient MS. in 
the British Museum, with a Translation, Notes, etc. 4to. os. 

Proper Names of the Old Testament arranged 

Alphabetically from the original Text, with Historical and Geogra- 
phical Illustrations, for the use of Hebrew Students and Teachers, 
with an Appendix of the Hebrew and Aramaic Names in the New 
Testament. 8vo., cloth. 7s. 6d. 

Spencer (Herbert). Classification of the Sciences, 

to which are added Reasons for Dissenting from the Philosophy of 
M. Comte. 8vo., sewed. 2s. 6d. 

Second Series of Essays, Scientific, Poli- 
tical, and Speculative. 8vo., cloth. 1863. 10s. 

Contents : — 1. The Nebular Hypothesis. — 2. Illogical Geology. — 
3. The Philosophy of Laughter. — 4. Bain on the Emotions and 
the Will. — 5. The Social Organism. — 6. Bepresentative Govern- 
ment — what is it good for ?. — 7. Parliamentary Beform : The 
Dangers and the Safeguards.— 8. Prison Ethics. — 9. State- 
tampering with Money and Banks. — 10. The Morals of Trade. 

System of Philosophy. Yol. I. First 

Principles. 8vo., cloth. 16s. 

— Vol. II. Princi- 



pies of Biology. Vol. L, 8vo., cloth. 16s. 
By the same Author. 

1. EDUCATION: Intellectual, Moral, and Physical. 8vo., cloth. 6s. 

2. ESSAYS : Scientific, Political, and Speculative. 8vo., cloth. 12s. 

3. PBINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY. 8vo., cloth. 16s. 

Codex Alexandrinus. Novum Testamentum 

Graece, ex antiquissimo Codice Alexandrino a C. G. Woide olim 
descriptum : ad fidem ipsius Codicis denuo accuratius edidit B. H. 
Cowper. 8vo., cloth. (Published at 12s.) 6s. 

Kelly (William). Lectures on the Book of Eeve- 

lation. 8vo., cloth. 9s. 

The Eevelation of John. Edited in Greek, 

with a new English Version and a Statement of the chief authorities 
and various Beadings. By "William Kelly. 8vo. 4s. 6cl. 

Moor's Hindu Pantheon. A new Edition from 

the original Copper-plates. 104 plates, with descriptive letter-press. 
By the Rev. A. P. Moor, Sub-Warden of St. Augustine's College, 
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6 List of Works Published by Williams and Norgate. 

Banerjea (K. M.). Dialogues on the Hindu Phi- 
losophy, comprising the Nyaya, the Sankhya, the Vedant, to which is 
added a Discussion of the Authority of the Vedas. By the Eev. 
3L M. Banerjea, Second Professor in Bishop's College, Calcutta. 
8vo., cloth. 18s. 

Max Muller. Ancient Sanskrit Literature and 

the Primitive Eeligion of the Brahmans. A History of Ancient 
Sanskrit Literature as far as it illustrates the Primitive Eeligion of 
the Brahmans. By Max Muller, M.A., Fellow of All Souls' 
College, Oxford. 8vo., cloth. Second edition, revised. 21s. 

Colebrooke (H. T.). Essays on the Eeligion and 

Philosophy of the Hindus. New Edition. 8vo., cloth. 10s. 6d. 

Williams (Prof. Monier). Indian Epic Poetry, 

"being the substance of Lectures recently given at Oxford ; with a full 
Analysis of the Eamayana, and the leading Story of the Maha 
Bharata. By M. Williams, Boden Professor of Sanskrit. 8vo., 
cloth. 1863. 5s. 

The Study of Sanskrit in Eelation to 

Missionary Work in India. An inaugural Lecture delivered before 
the University at Oxford, with Notes and Additions. 8vo. 1861. 2s. 

Macnaghten (Sir W.). Principles of Hindu and 

Mohammedan Law. Eepublished from the Principles and Precedents 
of the same. By Sir William Macnaghten. Edited, with an 
Introduction, by the late Dr. H. H. Wilson, Boden Professor of 
Sanskrit in the University of Oxford. Second edition. 8vo., cloth. 6s. 

Morley (W. H.). Law of India. The Adminis- 
tration of Justice in British India, its Past History and Present State, 
comprising an Account of the Laws peculiar to India. By W. H. 
Morley, of the Inner Temple, Barrister-at-Law. Eoyal 8vo., cloth, 
boards. 15s. 

Hardy (E. Spence). A Manual of Buddhism in 

its Modern Development, translated from Singalese MSS. 8vo., cloth. 
(Published at 12s.) reduced to 7s. 0>d. 

The Legends and Theories of the Budd- 
hists, compared with History and Modern Science. 1 vol., 8vo. 

{In the Press.) 

Eastern Monachism (Buddhism). An 



Account of the Origin, Laws, Discipline, Sacred Writings, etc., of 
tin Order of Mendicants founded by Ciotama Budha. 8vo., cloth. 
(Pnbluhedat 12*.) 7«. 6* 

Koran, newly translated from the Arabic ; with 

'Pr< face. Notes, and J iuh \ . The Sura> arranged in chronological 
(.nl.i. I'.\ the llcv. .1. M. Koi.wm.i. M.A., lit. tor of St. Kthcl- 
DUrga, liisliop-^ate. Crown Svo., cloth. I Of, Btf. 



List of Works Published by Williams and Nor gate, 7 
Halayudha's Abhidhanaratnamala. A Sanskrit 

Vocabulary, Edited, with. Notes and a Sanskrit-English. Glossary, by 

Th. Atjfrecht, Professor of Sanskrit in the University of Edinburgh. 

8vo., cloth. 18s. 

This edition of the Vocabulary of Halayudha, which is now for the first time 

printed, is based on two MSS. in the Bodleian Library, collated with others in the 

Library of the East India House, and a fragment in the Royal Library at Berlin. 

Carrington (E. C), E.E.S. Observations of the 

Spots on the Sun, from November 9, 1853, to March 24, 1861, made 
at Eedhill. Illustrated by 166 plates. Eoyal 4to., cloth, boards. 25s. 
The publication of this work was aided by a Grant from the Fund placed at the 
disposal of the Royal Society by Her Majesty's Treasury. 

Pocket Maps, Celestial and Terrestrial, 

on which the Equatorial Eegions are exhibited continuously as on a 
globe, by doubling down the Polar Sections successively on the right. 
(Each 5 inches x 13|). Is. 

Tattam (Yen. Dr.). Grammar of the Egyptian 

Language, as contained in the Coptic, Sahidic, and Bashmuric 
Dialects ; together with Alphabets and JSTumerals in the Hieroglyphic 
and Enchorial Characters. By the Eev. Henry Tattam, D.D., 
F.E.S. Second edition, revised and corrected. 8vo., cloth. 9s. 

Homer's Iliad, translated into Blank Yerse by 

the Eev. T. S. Norgate. Post 8vo., cloth. 15s. 

Homer's Odyssey, translated into English Dra- 
matic Blank Verse by the Eev. T. S. Norgate. Post 8vo., cloth. 12s* 

Batrachomyomachia. The Battle of the Erogs 

and Mice, reproduced in English Blank Verse by the Eev. T. S. 
Norgate. Post 8yo., sewed. Is. 

Diez (FA Eomance Dictionary. An Etymolo- 
gical Dictionary of the Eomance Languages, from the German of 
Er. Diez, with Additions by T. C. Donktn, B.A. 8vo., cloth. 15s. 
In tbis work, tbe wbole Dictionary which, in the original, is divided into four 

parts, bas been, for greater convenience in reference, reduced to one Alpbabet ; and 

at tbe end is added a Vocabulary of all English Words connected with, any of tbe 

Romance Words treated of throughout the Work. 

Introduction to the Grammar of the 

Eomance Languages, translated by C.B.Cayley,B. A. 8vo., cloth. 4s. 6d. 

Platonis Phaedo. The Phaedo of Plato. Edited, 

with Introduction and Notes, by W. D. Geddes, M.A., Professor of 
Greek in the University of Aberdeen. 8vo., cloth. 8s. 

Garnett's Linguistic Essays. The Philological 

Essays of the late Eev. Eichard Garnett, of the British Museum. 
Edited by his Son. 8vo., cloth boards. 10s. 6d. 

Old Irish Glossaries. Cormac's Glossary, from a 

MS. in the Library of the Eoyal Irish Academy), O'Davoren's 
Glossary (from a MS. in the British Museum), and a Glossary to- 
the Calendar of Olngus the Ctjldee (from a MS., in the Library 
of Trin. Coll. Dublin.) Edited with an Introduction and Index by 
• Whitley Stokes, Esq. 8vo., cloth. 10s. 6d. 



8 List of Works Published by Williams and Norgate. 

Latham (R. G.). Philological, Ethnographical, 

and other Essays. By R. G. Latham, M.D., F.R.S., etc. 8vo., 
cloth. (Published at iOs. 6d.) os. 

Kennedy (James). Essays, Ethnological and 

Linguistic. By the late James Kennedy, Esq., formerly H. B. M. 
Judge at the Havana. Edited by C. M. Kennedy, B.A, 8vo., cloth. 
(Published at 7s. 6^.) 4s. 

Modern Poets and Poetry of Spain. 

8vo., cloth, (Published at 16s.) 4s. 

Davy (John), M.D. Physiological Researches. 

By John Davy, M.D., F.R.S., etc. 8vo., cloth. 1863. 15*. 

On some of the more Important Diseases 

of the Army, with Contributions to Pathology. By John Davy, 
M.D., F.R.S., Lond. and Ed., Inspector- General of Army Hospitals, 
etc. 8vo., cloth. 15s. 

Natural History Review. A Quarterly Journal 

of Biological Science. Edited by Dr. W. B. Carpenter, F.R.S. ; 
Dr. R. McDonnell; Dr. E. P.Wright, F.L.S.; G. Busk, F.R.S. ; 
Prof. Huxley, F.R.S. ; John Lubbock, F.R.S. ; Prof. J. R. Greene; 
P. L. Sclater, F.R.S., Sec. Z.S., F.L.S. ; D. Oliver, F.R.S., F.L.S. ; 
F. Currey, F.R.S. ; and Wyville Thomson, LL.D., F.R.S.E. ; with 
woodcuts and lithographic illustrations. Quarterly, 4s. Annual 
Subscription, paid in advance, 1 2s. 

Home and Foreign Beview. Eight Parts (July, 

1862, to April, 1864). 8vo., sewed. Each, 6s. 

Journal of Sacred Literature and Biblical Eecord. 

Edited by B. H. Cowper, Editor of the New Testament in Greek 
from Codex A ; a Syriac Grammar, etc. Published Quarterly, price 
5s. Annual Subscription, 17 s., post free. 

Morgan (J. P.). England under the Norma" 

Occupation. By James F. Morgan, M.A. Crown 8vo., cloth. 4s. 

Schnorr's Bible Pictures, Scripture History Illus- 
trated in a Series of 180 Engrayines on Wood, from Original Designs 
by Julius Schnorr. (With English Texts.) Royal 4to., handsomely 
bound in cloth gilt extra. 42s. 
Or, the same in 3 vols, (each containing 60 Plates) cloth boards, extra 
gilt, lo.v. each. 

"Messrs. Williams ft Nokoatk have published here Julius Schnorr's "liih'e 
Pictures," ;i series in three volumes, of large woodcuts, hy that admirable artist, 
which seem to as precisely to supply the want of the mass of English people, ^e 
consider ourselves doing a service to the cause of tine public love Of art hy calling 
attention to tin in." Macmillan*a Magazine, Nov. 1859. 






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